


Got to Begin Again

by vaiya



Series: Changes [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaiya/pseuds/vaiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A What-If  based on Dr. Bashir, I Presume. What if Starfleet hadn't been so forgiving of his condition?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by a song by Billy Joel that shares the title of this fic.

He’d had a plan.

He was going to visit Captain Sisko, explain the situation, and hand in his resignation. This would save both himself and his family from the inquiry to come, and allow him to slip away quietly, but things in life rarely go according to plan. When he arrived in Sisko’s office, both his parents were already there, along with a holo-image of the Judge Advocate General, Admiral Bennett.

His father had confessed to it all, with the intention of taking all the blame and punishment. He was to be imprisoned for illegal genetic engineering… and Julian?

Sisko couldn’t meet his eyes as the Admiral apologized and informed him that, despite his accomplishments and his service record, genetically enhanced humans were still forbidden from both practicing medicine and serving in Starfleet. No exceptions. “If we make even one exception, the rules become useless.”

Julian was careful to keep his posture and expression neutral and respectful as he replied that he understood, thank you. His father had given him a small, sad half-smile, placing a gentle hand on his son’s jaw, telling him that at least he didn’t have to go to prison as well. He was still free.

Free. As though he still had all his options open. As though he could do anything he wanted.

But what he wanted was no longer an option.

He remained as polite as he could manage while Sisko gave him time to put his affairs in order; pass on his projects to other doctors, send in any reports Starfleet still needed from him, and to clean out his belongings from his Starfleet-issued quarters and hand in his uniform. The Captain assured him that he would do everything in his power to assign him new, if quite a bit smaller, quarters and a job if he so wished it, but Julian only told him that he would think it over.

Everything after that went by in a haze.

He went through the motions, keeping himself in check. He answered any questions with as few words as possible, and did his best to have everything quickly and efficiently done with. Luckily, Miles offered to help and was very good at dismissing any of the more prying questions with a stern look, but word travels fast on the station, and before long, everyone he passed gave him not-so-subtle glances and he could hear the gossip when they believed him to be beyond listening range.

Most of the senior staff helped him clean and pack up his things into little impersonal crates scattered about the main room. Thankfully, they respected his wishes and asked no questions about his new situation, sticking to safe questions like, “Should this go in this box or another one?” (although, he heard later that most of them had argued against Starfleet’s decision at the meeting he hadn’t been invited to.) When it was done, they all gave their condolences, asked if there was anything he needed, and offered their help if he chose. He thanked them all, touched by their offers, but turned them down, at least for now.

Sisko informed him that he would be returning in the morning for his uniform, allowing him this one last night to stay in his room.

Only Miles lingered when all was said and done.

“Hey,” the Chief eyed him warily, “you up for a game of darts, or a drink? It’s on me.”

Julian gave him a tired, but appreciative look, and shook his head. “If it’s all right with you, Miles, I think I just want to be alone now.”

The Chief nodded and turned towards the exit, pausing as he reached it. He stayed there for a moment, one hand on the door frame, and said quietly over his shoulder, “If you need a place to stay while you figure things out, my place is open.”

Julian nodded, genuinely grateful for the offer. “Thank you, Miles.”

His friend gave a quick nod and left, the doors swishing shut behind him.

Alone at last, Julian took in a deep breath, finally allowing the events of the day to sink in. He had been holding it all at bay since it all began, but now he let go, letting the sorrow and disappointment wash over him as he sunk down onto his- no, no longer his… the station’s, couch.

It was over.

Slowly, he pulled off his comm badge, setting it gently on the end table, and then each pip. He stared at them. All his hard work, everything he’d done to earn them, all pointless now. They were no longer his, and never would be again.

He removed his jacket, draping it over the back of the couch and leaned his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. He’d always known this day could come, but now that it had, he was at a loss for what to do. Of course, he’d imagined and planned so many scenarios around it, and many of them were still open to him, but… nothing seemed to fit. They were all only things he _could_ do, and nothing at all that he truly wanted.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud chime from the door.

He frowned. The last thing he wanted now was company. He eyed the door, silently wishing whoever it was away, to leave him alone in his misery.

The door chimed again.

“Go away.” He grumbled tiredly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t have to open the door, and no one could make him.

Minutes passed, and the chime didn’t sound again. However, just as Julian was about to drift back into his thoughts, the doors slid open, revealing a familiar Cardassian face and bright blue eyes that locked onto him.

“Doctor.”

Julian scowled. “Garak. I have no desire to talk to anyone right now. Please leave.”

He was forceful with his words, but the tailor only dipped his head with a polite smile as though he had been invited in with open arms, and stepped over the threshold, allowing the doors to shut behind him. The blue eyes scanned the room quickly, lingering momentarily on each crate before falling back to Julian.

“I have been hearing some interesting rumors, Doctor,” he began with a slightly questioning look. “It seems they are true, then?”

Julian let out an exasperated breath, burying his face in his hands again. “Depends on what you’ve heard, though I imagine you already know the answer.”

He could hear the impossibly light footsteps move closer until he could sense the Cardassian was in front of him, not more than an arm’s length away. However, Garak said nothing, and the silence stretched between them until Julian opened one eye, peeking through his fingers at his regular lunchtime companion.

The tailor had his hands behind his back, head tilted to the side as he stared at the human in front of him with a thoughtful look.

“How long have you been… as you are?”

Julian closed his eyes again, shaking his head. “I was… changed at six years old, but I didn’t discover what had been done to me until I was fifteen.” He didn’t want to talk about this. Not again.

A slow nod, but the expression didn’t vary. “What, exactly, about you was changed?”

Julian made a frustrated noise. “I’m certain you could find all of these things out yourself.”

“Undoubtedly, but I should like to hear them from you.”

Bashir sighed, but telling him what he wanted was likely the quickest and easiest way of getting rid of him. “Nearly everything was changed. Intelligence, height, weight, hand-eye co-ordination… anything they could ‘improve,’ they did.”

Another nod.

“Listen, Garak, I really don’t wish to discuss this right now. Please leave.”

But the Cardassian ignored the request, unmoving, staring down at him with an unreadable expression. Julian took a steadying breath, drawing himself up from his slumped position and locked his hazel eyes with the blue.

“I could force you, if necessary.”

He’d expected, at least, a laugh or smirk at the human making threats, and then perhaps an off-handed comment that could be interpreted ten different ways depending on the angle… but neither happened. Instead, Garak’s eye ridges lifted only a fraction, a barely perceptible tilt of the head, and a quietly spoken sentence took their place.

“Yes, I believe you could.”

Julian cocked his head at the man. No teasing, no making light of it… instead, a solid, possibly even honest statement. It was unusual, to say the least. Something was off about it all, but he was in no mood to play these games today. Perhaps he never would again.

“What do you want, Garak?”

While the blue eyes continued to stare, almost unblinking, the expression softened slightly. “Tell me, Doctor,” the Cardassian’s voice had taken on some of his usual pleasant tone, “How much of an intelligence enhancement did you receive?”

“Garak?”

“Indulge me, Doctor.”

Julian sighed, focusing his sight on the floor between them. “Nearly perfect memory recall, almost computer speed calculations, IQ of…” He shook his head, “Why does it matter?”

“And, you’re hand-eye co-ordination, you said…” the tailor plowed on as though he hadn’t been asked a question at all, “Strength as well, I assume?” Julian nodded wearily, “So, when you play darts or racquetball with O’brian…?” He held a hand out, motioning for the human to finish the sentence for him.

“I’m holding back most days, yes.” He felt a pain at the thought. He was certain Miles had already come to that conclusion himself and was grateful that his friend hadn’t yet brought it up.

Garak’s mouth twitched at the corners, not quite a smile yet. “I suppose you could hit the center of the dart board every time, then?”

Julian closed his eyes, waving a dismissing hand. “I could probably do it blindfolded at this point.”

“And, if you were to, say, shoot an ancient Earth firearm at your dear Cardassian tailor…”

Bashir’s eyes shot open, locking on the now grinning face of his friend. So that was the goal here, then? Fine. If that’s what he came here for, then he would get his answer.

“Barring any unforeseen circumstances, and assuming I was familiar with the particular firearm… the bullet would fly exactly as aimed.”

Garak gave him a small nod, his smile fading to a look of mild confusion. “Why?”

“Why?” he echoed, giving a harsh laugh, “Why didn’t I kill you? You really don’t know the answer to that? I’m not a murderer, Garak!”

“Aren’t you?”

For a moment, everything stopped as Bashir absorbed those words. He looked the tailor over, blue eyes fixed intently on him, a smile playing at his lips. Julian swallowed, but he didn’t have to answer just yet; Garak started talking again.

“You’ve played a dangerous game these past years, haven’t you? Everything you’ve done has had to be perfectly calculated. Every step, every breath, every word thought out in advance so that you don’t seem too… perfect. I’m impressed.” The smile widened, the eyes, becoming almost predatory. “Throw the dart just a little too low, shoot the gun just a little to the right, ‘accidentally misjudge’ a step and falter in your stride, answer just one question wrong… but tell me, Doctor, how many times have you decided that the actions you need to take in order to save a life would reveal you? How many times have you _chosen_ to let a patient die in order to protect yourself?”

And there it was.

The question he’d hoped no one would even consider as a possibility, and of course it was Garak who had asked it. He looked away from the man in front of him, wringing his hands together as he fought off the pain and anger and panic, all while considering his options. He could lie, obviously, but Garak already knew, perhaps not the exact number, but that it was certainly more than zero. He could refuse to answer at all, but that wouldn’t exactly help anything in this situation, because no answer was still an answer. It was a telling answer, at least.

He found his voice, but it was small and harsh as he answered, “As little as possible.”

“Ah, I believe you can do far better than that, my dear Doctor.” The words were sharp, cutting him with each syllable. “I’m willing to bet you knew exactly how many, don’t you?”

Julian frowned, shutting his eyes tight and rubbing his temples. He should throw the tailor out of his room right now. No one would blame him. Kira would probably applaud him for it… likely Odo, too. Hell, everyone one of the senior staff, except perhaps Jadzia, would probably appreciate it. But then what? Garak had proven time and time again that he could enter his quarters any time he wanted, (not his quarters anymore though, were they? Not come tomorrow morning…) and they lived in a very enclosed place. The subject would come up again so long as they both resided here. He couldn’t avoid it forever… not unless he left.

But why was he asking the question at all? To prove that they were alike perhaps? To take some perverse pleasure in knowing that the innocent, naïve young Chief Medical Officer that he’d met so long ago was not so innocent or naïve? And, perhaps, not so young anymore…

“Doctor…”

“Three!” Julian snapped at him baring his teeth in a snarl. “It was three, all right? And they were the worst three moments of my life!”

The blue eyes blinked at him, slowly, and the man’s posture relaxed a little. “Doctor--“

“Stop calling me that!” Bashir was on his feet in an instant, moving until he was nose-to-ridged-nose with Garak, who looked genuinely surprised. Whether it was at the outburst itself, or the speed at which he had moved, it was unclear. “I’m not a doctor anymore! They’ve stripped me of my rank, my title! I am no longer Starfleet! I can no longer practice medicine! I have no job, no home, come tomorrow; I have nothing! I am nothing! I am--“

“An exile?”

Julian blinked, his anger immediately tossed aside as he stared at the Cardassian. The ex-spy had no more smiles or teasing glances, instead he showed only understanding and pain.

Of course he would say that. Of course he would understand.

Perhaps the only one on this station who did.

“God, Garak, I’m so sorry…” He took a step back, and then another, until he collapsed again onto the couch. “I’m not… not an exile… not like you. I’m not forbidden from returning to Earth, but… there will be nothing for me there anymore. Not now that I’ve been labeled as… an Augment. No one will hire me, and it’s unlikely that I will find a place to live there…” he sighed, falling silent, unwilling to say more, lest he fall into the dark pool of depression that threatened him. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms into them.

He heard Garak move after a time, but instead of leaving, as he had expected, the tailor moved to his right and sat down on the couch next to him. When he spoke next, his voice was low and surprisingly gentle.

“You may not be able to legally practice medicine within Starfleet, but you will always be a doctor.” There was a pause. “Have you spoken to Major Kira? Perhaps you could practice under Bajor’s laws.”

“No.” Julian leaned back until his head rested on the back of the couch as he stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to risk my presence harming Bajor’s chances of joining the Federation.”

Garak let out a breath… or was it a chuckle? “Always thinking of others…” he mumbled “but never the greater whole. You could do a lot of good for them, even if they never join your Federation. Perhaps it would be better if they didn’t.”

“Garak.” He warned, wishing the man would drop the subject.

“What do you plan to do?”

Julian gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know…”

Silence stretched between them again, and Julian let it wash over him. He really should figure it out. He was certain, if he wanted to stay, he could find some kind of job. He was fairly confident that _someone_ would hire him, even if it was for something trivial like cleaning dishes or tending a bar.

He grimaced at the sudden image of working for Quark.

“I could leave, I suppose…” He mused, “but I’m not sure where I would go. Most of the scenarios I planned around this involved both my parents still being free and not, in fact, in prison. I could live with my mother, I guess but… what would I do then?”

“Julian…”

Bashir snapped his attention back to the Cardassian on the couch next to him, incredibly startled at the use of his first name. Garak was not looking directly at him, instead focusing on the wall on the other side of the room, but the slight tilt in his posture showed that he was still watching him carefully. Julian had become very accustomed to the man’s looking-without-looking over the years.

He waited for the ex-spy to continue, but it was a few moments before he spoke again.

“Have you considered going into tailoring?”

Julian let out a quick, forceful, but surprisingly genuine laugh, and Garak turned to look at him with mild offence.

“I hardly think I’d be the first person one thinks of when one wants clothing that’s anywhere near fashionable, as you have commented on many, many times.” Still, he grin that had worked its way onto his face lingered, and the problems he’d been worrying about moments ago seemed just a little further away. Perhaps he should be glad he hadn’t thrown the man out.

Garak’s offended look faded while a gentle teasing amusement took its place. “No one would dare suggest you _design_ the clothing, my dear, but these surgeon’s fingers of yours,” grey hands grabbed at the golden brown, gently brushing across the long digits. Julian fought off the jolt he felt every time they touched, focusing on the words being said. “would be well suited to sewing, perhaps even embroidery.”

Julian stared down at the hands caressing his, uncertain how to take what had just been said. Was it a joke, or was he serious? Was there even more to it than what was said? Well, of course there was; it was Garak. But what? And he was still stroking his fingers…

“I… don’t think sewing is exactly what I see myself  doing… forever.”

The Cardassian’s eyes grew incredibly distant, and the words that fell from his tongue were so soft, he could barely hear them. “Neither did I…” Suddenly, Garak cleared his throat and added, “Misery does love company, my dear.”

Julian swallowed, choosing to ignore the romantic overtones. Again. (Still?) He had far too much to think about to add the tailor’s continued flirting to the list. “Are you offering me a job, Garak?”

The grey hands suddenly released his and were drawn back, as the blue eyes darted back to the wall. “I would not be opposed to having you work alongside me, should you need it.” He waved his hand as though batting a fly, “The offer is there, in any case.” He stood, absent-mindedly smoothing down his tunic. “But, I believe you have requested my leave, and I have the answers I came for.”

The Cardassian nodded at him, turning to go, but Julian’s hand shot out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. The intense blue eyes flashed a dangerous warning, almost too quickly to notice, before fading into mild suspicion and curiosity.

“Garak,” Bashir began, releasing his grip now that he had the man’s attention, “Thank you for the offer. And I shall consider it, truly… assuming you really meant it.”

The tailor gave him a warm smile. “Nothing would please me more. You’re always welcome… Julian.” He dipped his head in parting, and this time, nothing stopped him as he left the former doctor alone in is former room.


	2. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian's thoughts on the matter.

Julian had very little sleep that night. He kept replaying the conversation with Garak over in his mind. So much had been said, and so much more had been left unsaid.

First and foremost; Garak now had the knowledge to destroy him further.

His friends on the station still accepted him, despite the knowledge of his genetic enhancements, but what would that matter if they found out he had deliberately allowed people to die to hide this secret? How would they react then? He knew how he would react and hoped that they would be just as disgusted with him as he was with himself.

And what would Garak do with this information? Even if the Cardassian had no way of proving it, once the idea was presented, it would be all anyone would need to doubt everything he did from then on.

Even though he hadn’t actually killed anyone… just… allowed them to die.

Which is just as bad.

They would be right to distrust him; he was a monster.

But then, perhaps Garak had no intention of letting this secret out. It could have been for his knowledge only, and the man did take pride in his secrets. However, the fact that anyone had Julian’s secret was a cause for concern, and that it was someone as devious and slippery and mysterious as Garak made it even more so. He could tell the secret at any time, whenever he felt like it, and would ruin whatever chance Julian had left of remaining on the station.

But, the tailor had offered him a job, of sorts, hadn’t he? Wouldn’t that mean that he’d wanted him to stay? Or was he just throwing words at him to put him at ease? Prep him for the kill.

He wouldn’t do that, would he?

Julian liked to think he knew Garak well, but he hardly knew him at all.

Every since their first meeting, he had been a mystery: The Cardassian Spy. Julian had not been quite as naïve as he’d pretended to be back then, but, looking back, he hadn’t been near as smart as he thought he was. He _had_ been completely surprised and excited that the spy had chosen him, _him,_ to make contact with, but he’d only expected one adventure. It had been fun and exciting and amazing, and then it was over. Certainly the spy would have no more use for a young, wet-behind-the-ears doctor. It had been nice while it lasted.

He certainly hadn’t expected the man to approach him at lunch once more, not a week later, asking him about the book he’d been reading. The tailor took a surprising interest in literature, and the doctor hardly noticed the time whizz by as they talked, before he had to get back to work.

But he knew he’d been played when Garak pulled a ready-and-waiting PADD from a concealed pocket that just so happened to have a book on it that he was suggesting Julian read. When he tried to politely turn the Cardassian down, saying he wouldn’t be able to get to the book until he finished his own, the tailor smiled his amused predatory little smile and insisted, agreeing to lend it to him until he had the time to read it, and would be expecting a lunch invitation to discuss what he thought of it once finished.

Julian often wondered exactly how long Garak had been watching him reading alone at lunch before trying that trick.

Julian never suspected that they would continue the trend of lunch and literature years later. He also never suspected that he would be saving the man’s life from a device in his brain, or that they’d flirt mercilessly until Julian didn’t know if it was real or just a game, or how much loss he would feel seeing the man die before his very eyes in a Dominion simulation, or that they would spend time together in a holosuite saving the world… or that he would be allowed to witness Garak’s greatest secret as Tain, his _father_ , died in his arms…

He’d never expected to become attached. He’d never thought he’d care as much as he did.

And he would never have guessed that Garak would come to trust him.

But he did.

Julian had realized it in that Dominion cell as the ex-spy pleaded with his father. He hadn’t needed to let Julian witness it. When Tain had asked if they were alone, he could have asked the Doctor to give them some privacy. Instead, he’d lied to Tain and motioned for Julian to stay silent.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to hear back then. Tain forgiving Garak for however he’d been betrayed? Unlikely. Garak trying to get information from the old man on how to escape? Possibly. Garak wheedling information about the Obsidian Order or Cardassia from his former mentor? Very likely.

Watching Garak almost beg an old, dying man for one kind word of acknowledgement for his son was not even on the list.

And, if he’d calculated correctly, the implications meant that unless Garak’s mother was still alive somewhere, the beings who knew this secret had all been in that room together.

A secret that the tailor had told no one, not even his own people, and he had let Julian overhear it. Had _wanted_ him to hear it.

It wasn’t the first time he’d made Julian wonder just how deep their relationship went, but it had been the most significant.

He’d meant to discuss it with the Cardassian once they’d returned to the station, but they’d all been so tired after the ordeal that it was days before he’d recovered enough to even think about bringing the matter up. And, of course then Garak was his usual evasive self whenever he’d come close to approaching the topic. And then…

Julian discovers Garak’s biggest secret, and now the whole station knew Julian’s. Or, more accurately, the station knew most of the secret, and Garak knew the rest. Could he be trusted to keep it?

That was the question, wasn’t it?

Julian had always felt, in his gut, that Garak would never hurt him, even though he’d seen countless evidence to the contrary. Garak betrayed people and lied all the time, so what made Julian think he was different from anyone else? Simply because he wanted to be? That was foolish and as naïve as he once pretended to be. Maybe he really was that naïve. If the opportunity presented itself, Julian had no reason to think that Garak wouldn’t reveal the secret, so long as it benefited him. Garak’s loyalty was to Cardassia and himself, not poor young, human Julian.

He had to come up with a plan, just in case… in case Garak turned out to be what everyone on the station believed him to be.

So, Garak may know his great secret, but Julian knew his, too. Perhaps he could use it as leverage. The problem was, Garak’s secret wasn’t near as useful as it used to be. Who here on this station would care that the tailor was the son of the dreaded former leader of an Order that no longer existed? Odo maybe. And if he was even able to tell another Cardassian the secret, what would that do? He’d already been exiled. Maybe he’d have to deal with just a little more death threats that usual? Very little would change.

Julian did, however, know another secret of the tailor’s concerning dark, enclosed spaces…

But the thought of using that information against his friend… his _friend_ , made him sick. He wasn’t that kind of person, and he never would be. He refused to prey on other’s fears. He wasn’t like that.

Even if Garak was.

 So… Julian’s options were, then, leave the station… or trust Garak.

He sighed.

All right. Option one: Leave the station. How?

There were plenty of transports leaving every day. Ones going to Earth were currently out of the question, but that certainly didn’t narrow his options by much. He could probably find a freighter to work on for a while. Either stay on the ship and do any job needed, or maybe find an out-of-the way planet, out of the influence of Starfleet and try to practice medicine. Maybe even find a place on the other side of the wormhole, where he wouldn’t have to deal with any of these issues ever again.

While he never saw his friends or family again.

While they faced war.

A war they may not survive. Could he live with himself, never going back, never learning their fate? Knowing that maybe, if he’d been there, that he could have done something?

No. He wasn’t going to run.

So, where did that leave him?

Trusting Garak.

Okay, so what if he did stay on the station? He’d have to find some way to be useful. They wouldn’t let him take up valuable living space and do nothing. He’d have to find a job of some kind.

There were plenty of merchants on the Promanade, and he knew most of the proprietors, even if it was just from routine check-ups and the more-routine-then-they-should-be medical emergencies. Many of them trusted him, or even liked him, and it seemed likely that at least one of them would agree to hire him.

He’d already received one offer, after all.

And that puzzled him. Why _would_ Garak offer to hire him, anyway? To take comfort that the genetically enhanced former doctor was now under his control?

But he hadn’t said that Julian would be working _for_ him, had he? No, he’d specifically said _working alongside_ him. Did that imply they would be equals? Would it then become Garak and Bashir’s Clothiers?

He chuckled at the thought.

What would the others think of _that_?

Nerys and Miles would probably declare him insane, Odo would probably make it a point to watch them both closer, Jadzia would probably just assume they’d started having sex (no, he wasn’t going to think about that now. Not now. He had more important things. Really. And that wasn’t an option, right? Of course not. He couldn’t. They couldn’t. Right? Even though he’d felt that tingling jolt when they’d touched again. Every time. Even though the blue eyes drew him in. Even though the hands had been so very gentle on his and-- Stop it. That’s wasn’t the main problem right now. Get a hold of yourself.), Worf might just kill the both of them, and Sisko would likely caution him on how that might look to Starfleet.

And how would it look if he started working with Garak, the _enemy_ , right after being kicked out of Starfleet? Those back on Earth might see it as him defecting, maybe even selling secrets to the enemy. Anyone who actually knew him would know he would never do such a thing, but he doubted anyone back home (no, not home anymore) would consider getting to know him before accusing him of treason.

They expected him to be another Kahn, after all, and would be looking for any reason to accuse him of leaning in that direction. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Show them they were wrong; that not every genetically enhanced being was a tyrant or a mass murderer. Show them that he was just a person, like them.

By living an unremarkable life.

If he hadn’t been discovered, he might have shown them by saving lives. He might have saved more lives than Kahn had destroyed, but that didn’t matter to them, did it? It didn’t stop them from stripping him of his rank and leaving him to his own devices. None of his achievements had mattered, unless they were the only reason they hadn’t arrested him, too.

He sighed wearily.

Ha had been the youngest nominee for the Carrington Award, once. Would that information be left in the textbooks now, or would he be cast out of history? At best, a footnote would be added to it, stating that he’d had an unfair advantage due to his resequencing.

Probably a good thing he hadn’t won, then. Think of the mess that would have been.

He could imagine all the people back on Earth now going over all his files, looking for anything he’d ever done that might pose a problem. Anything they could discredit him now that his secret was out. Anything they could use against him. Nothing would be spared, he was sure of it.

He’d have to start all over again, from scratch. He couldn’t count on anything carrying over from his old life, even if he did stay. And no matter how many times he went over it all in his mind, he still couldn’t figure out how to start. He’d either be abandoning his friends, feeling useless, or looking like he was betraying his people. There was no winning.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to.

He asked the computer for the time, and found that it was already far too late to get any real sleep. Captain Sisko would be over to see him in three hours to collect his uniform and relocate his belongings. Still, he had no idea whether to tell the Captain if he’d be staying or leaving.

Maybe he should sleep on it, even if it was just a few hours.

Yes. Maybe he’d have a fresh perspective in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite an exciting chapter, but necessary. Things will pick up a little on the next one.


	3. Friends

 Though he had gotten little sleep, Julian found he wasn’t overly tired. Not refreshed, exactly, but not tired. He found he’d reached a deep sense of neutrality. There was no sense in despairing, as what had happened couldn’t be reversed, and he had no reason yet to feel at ease with what was to come, since he didn’t even know what he was going to do. He did, however, hope to have some sort of plan by the day’s end.

Captain Sisko had arrived at the expected time to collect his uniform and relocate him to temporary quarters on the other side of the habitat ring. It was small, but it would do for a few days until he’d figured out what he wanted. With the help of Jadzia and Miles, he was able to move all his things in only two trips, which only served to remind him how little he had that was his own; Most of his medical equipment was property of Starfleet.

Kira informed him, without prompting, that she had spoken with the Provisional Government on his behalf about serving as a doctor for them, but they had been reluctant to accept a “Starfleet Cast-off.” She said the words with enough venom that he could only smile, imagining how much she might have yelled at the government officials for him. He was touched, and thanked her.

Sisko practically ordered Julian to let him know if he could do anything to help, and then squashed him in a giant bear hug before returning to his duties. Jadzia arranged for the two of them to have lunch later that day and Miles demanded that they get stone drunk later that evening and defend the Alamo. Julian wasn’t entirely certain he had intended it to happen in that order or not, but didn’t refuse.  These were his friends; his family. They had remained by his side even after his terrible secret was revealed, and he wasn’t about to let them go now. They were his only stability right now. He needed it.

Lunch was quite a few hours away, and he wasn’t about to unpack anything he didn’t need immediately until he knew where he stood, so, he wandered to the Promenade for a while.

He’d lived on Deep Space Nine for five years now, and only now realized he’d never just looked at it all. Sure, he’d seen the whole thing, and his enhanced senses and observation meant he had the entire station memorized, but actually looked at it? Admired the architecture, or watched the people go about their lives, or even just perused the wares of the stores? No, he’d always run from place to place, doing his duty as an officer and a doctor, and never taking in the sights and sounds more than just logging it in his infuriatingly manufactured brain.

It was a strange feeling, walking (not rushing about) through the Promenade, eyes lingering on every item in every shop; To watch the waiters at each restaurant go about their days, bringing food to their patrons; Strange to see it all from the outside, instead of being in the middle of it.

The reactions he got from the people he passed on his way were very telling. Every Starfleet officer either gave him looks of disgust or deep pity, while most of the Bajoran officers and workers stayed more on the confused side of concern. For the most part, the shopkeepers were polite, and he could easily tell if they had heard of his condition by how they acted. Those who knew were usually hesitant and delicate with their words, while those who were unaware usually asked him polite questions about his work, or still called him Doctor.

He felt obligated to inform them that he was no longer Chief Medical Officer of the station, following it up with a hasty “It’s complicated,” before they had a chance to press him for answers, and left them dumbfounded. At least it was better for him to tell them rather than finding out from rumors and having them get angry at him for playing off that he was anything else. No, his days of pretending nothing was wrong were over.

He did manage to collect a few job opportunities though, should he decide to stay. A few restaurants were hiring, as well as a starship supply store, and a florist shop. He didn’t commit to anything yet, of course, but he did discuss the possibilities with the proprietors, if they were available. It was good to know that he did, in fact, still have options.

Jadzia met him for lunch at the Replimat at mid-day, and she was just the right amount of gentle, understanding, and teasing that he found it difficult to hold back renewed affection for her. She was off-limits now, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wish that things had gone differently. Still, he wouldn’t stop himself from enjoying her company.

“So, what _are_ you going to do?” she jumped onto this new topic as their last one died down (they had talked about nearly everything except the elephant in the room, and it seemed that now was the time.)

He remained silent for a while, staring into his half-empty cup of tea. “I haven’t quite decided yet.” He admitted quietly.

She nodded, her gorgeous eyes glancing around as she leaned in conspiratorially. “We’ll miss you if you leave, you know.”

Her sincerity was touching, especially when she mixed it with her flirting nature, and Julian felt the overwhelming urge to change the mood before he did something he’d regret.

“Perhaps I’ll stay.” He flashed her a smile. “Who knows, maybe I’ll go into business with Garak.” He watched for her reaction, partly hoping she’d take it as a joke, but secretly hoping that she’d take the bait.

Jadzia gave him a curious glance as her slender fingers rested on her cheekbone. “Have you spoken with him?”

Here, he had to tread carefully. “Some,” He admitted, “Why?”

She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head appraisingly. “Well, I know how close you two are. I’m sure he’d miss you just as much as we would.” She quirked an eyebrow as a tease, but he wasn’t going to take her bait. She was fishing just as much as he was.

He decided to play dumb. He was good at that. “You think so? I’m not so sure…”

She flashed him a beautiful, wonderful smile and playfully pushed his arm. “The way you two flirt, you’re worse than me some days. I’m surprised there aren’t bets as to when the two of you tie the knot.”

He smiled a little. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s an option. You have to have something to tie into a knot, first.” He stared into this cooling tea for a while, keeping half an eye on his lunch companion, who looked suddenly pensive.

“Julian,” she started gently, “You’re not in Starfleet anymore. Perhaps it’s time you find out what you _do_ want from him.”

His eyes met hers. He’d never discussed anything like this with her before, but she made it sound like an argument they’d been having on and off for years. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, your options have changed now, and I’m certainly not the only one who’s noticed how you act around each other.” She placed a reassuring hand on his. “And now you have a chance to explore that. I think you’ll find you have even more in common now than ever before.”

He leaned back, pulling away from her, looking glum. “So I’ve noticed.” He let out a long sigh. “The problem is, I don’t have any clue what I want from him anymore. Once, I suppose, I wanted to unravel the mystery, but the more I reveal, the less certain I am about it all.”

She nodded sympathetically. “Not liking what you see in him anymore?”

“Not liking what I see in me.” He corrected. “The more I find in common with him, the less certain I am with myself.”

“You’re afraid of becoming him.”

Julian frowned. “I’m afraid I am him.”

Jadzia pressed her lips together. “Julian, you know that’s not true.”

He shook his head. “Isn’t it? We’ve both lied most of our lives. We’ve both done… questionable things in order to get the job done. We’ve both been at odds with our parents, and we’re both loyal to our own people even if we’ve both been cast out in disgrace from them.” He stared hard down at the floor. “What makes me so different from him?”

The Trill almost laughed. “Julian, you are the most honest, open, and kind man I know. So you kept a secret from us. It wasn’t as though you had a lot of choice in the matter. You haven’t lied to us about anything else. Not about the things that matter, anyway.”

“How would you know?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how do you know I haven’t lied about anything else?” He swallowed. This wasn’t where he’d wanted to go with the conversation, but found he couldn’t help himself. “How can you be sure that I’m not lying to you about everything I am? How do you know I don’t have any other dark secrets? How do you know that everything you’ve come to see as me hasn’t been a lie all this time?” He took a deep breath, “How can you be certain that I haven’t been just like him all along?” What was he doing? Was he going to reveal himself? Maybe he should. Maybe it would be better if everyone hated him. That would make his decision for him, wouldn’t it?

“Julian,” Her voice was gentle and concerned and she leaned in until she caught his eyes and he looked back at her. “You have done more to help people than any other doctor I have ever met. When anyone else would quit, or give something up as a lost cause, you stayed to get the job done. You’ve done things that no one else could have even conceived of in order to save lives, including the life of Chief O’Brien’s child, I might add. You are a brilliant man, and you are being far too hard on yourself. ” The corners of her mouth twitched, not quite giving into a smile. “And the fact that we’re having this conversation at all convinces me that you are different enough from him that you don’t need to be afraid of becoming him.”

Julian couldn’t help but smirk a little. It did make him feel a little better. “Assuming I’m not having this conversation with you to throw you off the scent of who I really am.”

She laughed. “And that convinces me that you’re similar enough to him that you two need to talk to each other about what the both of you want.”

Julian puffed out a bitter laugh. “As though he’d ever just tell me what he wants.” He grabbed his cup and downed the rest of his disgustingly cold tea, making a face that caused Jadzia to smirk. “The man never just says what he means.”

“Well, maybe you should have a discussion without words, then.” Her expression had turned devilish, and Julian was almost afraid to ask.

But he did anyway. “What?”

“I think you should kiss him.”

“Jadzia!” Julian practically choked on the word, putting on his most offended expression, and glancing around, horrified that someone heard. Some of the beings at the nearby tables were looking at them, but whether it was because of Dax’s suggestion, or Julian’s outburst, it was hard to say. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Kissing Garak isn’t a discussion, and you know it.”

She grinned, standing. “Oh? Maybe you should skip the kissing and just jump into his bed then.” She grabbed her plate and cup as he sputtered. “Sorry, Julian, but I have to get back to ops. Just talk to him. It’ll be fine.”

Julian watched her go as he pouted at the table. That was not how he’d wanted the conversation to go at all. But then, Jadzia often surprised him. It was one of the many things he liked about her. She kept him on his toes. But the advice she gave was not something he thought was a good idea. If he tried to kiss the tailor (or more), he’d likely end up with some broken bones, at least. Garak didn’t seem the type to go for all that sentimental romance anyway, and while the man had an undeniably attractive air about him, Julian was fairly certain that their flirting was all just part of the game they’d been playing all these years.

He closed his eyes, recalling their many lunchtime debates filled with implications and innuendos. It _was_ just a game… wasn’t it? Or was it more deeply layered, like Garak himself? Julian had always rolled with it. It was fun, but going any further than they had would have been impossible. Julian had been a Starfleet Officer and a doctor; a man who saves lives. Garak was a spy. Garak was a torturer. Garak was the enemy.

They didn’t work. They couldn’t work.

But he was no longer Starfleet, and no longer a doctor, and Garak was no longer an assassin, and the Obsidian Order had been obliterated. The Dominion had a firm grasp on Cardassia, so Garak was no longer a spy… or even a Cardassian, as far as Dukat was concerned.

He was rapidly running out of reasons of this supposed impossibility.

Except Garak was still a liar, and Julian wasn’t sure he could have a relationship with someone based on lies.

Even if he’d told Julian more truths lately than ever. The man had even stopped denying his Obsidian Order ties long ago, except for the occasional tease, and hadn’t Julian lied to him during their entire relationship, too?

He sighed, standing up. He grabbed his cup and shoved it into the nearest replicator, watching it being pulled apart, back into nothingness. It felt like his life; so carefully constructed and kept together, and yet so easily destroyed. Left with nothing.

A throat cleared behind him, pulling his attention to a Bajoran worker holding a tray of empty dishes and looking mildly irritated. Bashir mumbled an apology and moved away, returning to wandering the Promenade, allowing the man to recycle his dishes. He was paying little attention to where his feet took him, except to avoid collision, and so wasn’t overly surprised when he found himself standing a short distance away from Garak’s shop.

The door was open, and Julian could see the tailor sitting at his desk, a red cloth in one hand, and a sewing instrument in the other. Multi-colored fabric surrounded him on the surface of the desk, awaiting his attention.

It was always fascinating to watch the man work; perhaps even more so knowing so much about his previous profession (even though he knew very few of the details in it.) The Cardassian brow-ridges tight with concentration, focused on his task, seemingly oblivious to all else around him. Of course, Julian knew better. Garak was always aware of his surroundings, but the mask was there to put others at ease. Look at the plain, simple tailor who had never done anything but innocently sew buttons and hem trousers. Maybe he gardened a little, too. Nothing to worry about.

No one could deny that he was good at it; both the sewing and the façade. Whether the sewing was a talent he’d always possessed or something he’d had to learn after his exile, Julian couldn’t say. Was it something Julian himself could learn so easily? He’d knit together flesh and bone, but his only real experience with fabric was Kukalaka. Would it be so easy to switch from one to the other? A living creature differed greatly from lifeless cloth. There was hardly a comparison. If he made a wrong stitch with a needle and thread there was no life hanging in the balance; he could just undo the stitch and try again. Making a dress would not save a civilization. Hemming pants couldn’t cure a disease.

But then, being a tailor wasn’t really anything like being a spy or an assassin either, was it? What must it be like to go from having power over life and death and then suddenly switch to something so mundane?

Rather like Julian felt now, he suspected. No wonder the Cardassian had offered him a job. Misery does love company, especially for a man who has no family and very few friends to call his own. Were Julian in his shoes, never allowed to be with his own people and stuck on a confined chunk of metal floating in space where nearly everyone either hated or mistrusted him, he supposed he would grasp at any companionship he could. Julian at least still had his parents, even if they didn’t exactly get along, and he still had Miles and Jadzia… Sisko, Kira and Odo at least seemed still willing to be friendly with him as well. But who did Garak have?

Julian, of course, and Ziyal… Odo did tend to have breakfast with the man ever since their return from the Gamma Quadrant, but Julian wasn’t at all certain that it wasn’t just a ruse to keep an eye on the Cardassian. And… was that all?

For a man whose race held family and connections in such high esteem, was that all he had?

Maybe he _should_ take the tailor up on his offer. He could work with him, even if it wasn’t an ideal job, it was a job none-the-less. They certainly had drifted apart this last year, and now was probably the best time to bridge that gap that had grown between them. And then they could discuss literature and philosophy and politics every day instead of on their increasingly sporadic lunches. He couldn’t deny that their conversations had been the highlight of whatever day they fell on. He could always be himself with Garak.

And Garak could easily teach Julian how to sew. It couldn’t be overly difficult, right? At least the technical aspect of it, anyway. Their hands brushing as one passed a needle to the other… Garak leaning over him to show him how to line up pieces of cloth… breathing gently on his neck…

Wait. No. That’s not how it was supposed to go. Their relationship was purely intellectual. It always had been. Jadzia had it wrong. They hardly touched at all.

Except a gentle guiding hand on the small of his back.

And firm, teasing hands on his shoulders.

And a holding of hands, calming and reassuring, sitting on his couch at night…

Damn. Okay, maybe there was a little physical aspect. But, a kiss? More? Far too intimate. It was farther than either of them were willing to go, he was fairly sure. A scaled hand caressing his neck would be out of the question. Those lying lips pressed up against his in a moment of passion. The feel of the tailor’s silky hair beneath his fingers…

Oh, bloody hell.

Julian’s eyes darted frantically around him, as though someone nearby might have seen his thoughts. Or his pants. He wasn’t obvious, was he? No. For the first time ever, he was entirely too glad he wasn’t wearing a tight, revealing Starfleet uniform. Thank goodness nobody was really looking at him.

Except for Garak.

_Garak_ was looking at him.

And standing. Now Garak was standing!

Julian forced down his panic and the sudden urge to run away back to his quarters and never come back out. He wasn’t ready for this confrontation. He had too much on his plate, and this was not the time or the place to work it out. But he couldn’t run. Not only would that be incredibly rude, but it was cowardly. He could talk to the man civilly. He’d done it so many times in the past. This would be no different… jeeze, he was almost here.

“Doctor! Oh! Mr. Bashir!”

Both Julian and Garak turned to the source of the voice, Ziyal, hurrying through the crowds towards them, as Bashir thanked any and all possible deities for the sudden distraction. The young woman reached them in good time, and she smiled at Julian, then Garak.

“Oh, Garak, hello.” Light pink suddenly colored her pale cheeks and her faint neck ridges. She held her hand out, palm facing the Cardassian, and the tailor touched his own to hers briefly before pulling away.

“Greetings, my dear.” Though Garak was looking at Dukat’s daughter, Julian could feel the tailor watching him still. That was fine. He’d almost gotten himself under control. “To what do we owe this visit?”

Ziyal glanced from Julian to Garak and back again. “Oh, well, I was… wondering if I could talk to Mr. Bashir… uh, privately.” She gave Julian a shy glance, then her eyes widened suddenly, snapping back to Garak. “But, nothing’s wrong or anything! I just… it’s personal.”

The tailor put on his most disarming smile. “Think nothing of it, my dear.” He politely tilted his head, stepping back, but caught Bashir’s eye as he did so. “I hope you will join us for dinner tonight. It has been too long.”

“Oh, yes!” Ziyal nodded eagerly. “It has!”

Julian cringed. “I’m afraid I’m going to be with Miles tonight. I’m fairly certain he’s going to try and get me drunk.”

“Tomorrow, then. Lunch?” The grey head tilted back ever so slightly, giving him a questioning look. The eyes were asking ‘ _Will you be here tomorrow?’_

Julian smiled, strangely aware that he was able to read Garak so well. Was it because they’d known each other long enough, or was the tailor being overly transparent? He couldn’t tell. Either way, he could make a commitment for one more day, no matter what he chose. And this would give him time to work out what he wanted to say and do. “Tomorrow.” He confirmed, “Lunch.”

Seemingly satisfied, Garak nodded to each of them, and turned back to his shop, making his way back to the desk and the waiting fabric. Julian would be a fool to assume that that was the end of it, but he turned back to Ziyal anyway, curious as to what she wanted. They’d never really interacted outside of the infirmary, and nothing more than the usual check-up. Strange, too, that she had seemed eager for him to join them on their dinner plans.

He cleared his throat, putting on his professional Doctor face. “Well, Miss Tora, I don’t exactly have an office anymore, but I’m certain we can find some place to talk privately.” He waved for her to lead the way, but she hesitated.

“Oh,” She frowned a little, looking mildly confused. “You can call me Ziyal, you know.”

A bit confused himself, though he did understand the slight hesitation in using formal titles, Bashir politely nodded. “And I guess you can call me Julian instead of Mr. Bashir.”

The girl relaxed a little and smiled. She then turned away, now taking the lead. He followed her closely through the Promenade and into a side corridor that was largely empty. She then stopped and turned to face him, looking slightly nervous. It was the kind of look he often received when a patient was going to inform him of some embarrassing condition that needed attention. Despite his recent fall from grace, he couldn’t help but put on his Doctor mask and ask, “What’s wrong?”

Ziyal let out a little nervous laugh. “Wrong? Oh, nothing’s wrong. But…” She shuffled her feet a little and drew in a breath. “First of all, I want to say that I’m sorry for what Starfleet did. You’re a wonderful doctor and it shouldn’t matter that you’re a little different. They should have let you stay.”

Julian gave her a bitter smile. “Well, thank you, but I’m afraid that decision wasn’t something either of us had a hand in.” She ducked her head a bit as though apologizing. “But I appreciate the sentiment. However, that wasn’t what you wanted to talk to me about, was it?”

“No.” She stared at the floor for a moment before blurting, “It’s about Garak.”

Julian’s eyebrows shot up. That was certainly not what he had been expecting. Were they having trouble? Had Garak done something? Was she going to ask him for… relationship advice? He swallowed, keeping quiet. Instead, he motioned for her to go on, hoping the conversation wouldn’t get too awkward.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable he was getting. “We had breakfast this morning, and he seemed… different.”

“Different?” So far, nothing overly revealing, but it did pique his interest. “How so?”

“Well, you know how he is.” She gave a helpless shrug. “He’s usually so talkative. Oh, he listened to what I said, and even gave the correct answers at the correct times, but that’s all it was. It’s like he was distracted, but of course, when I asked about it, he denied it.” She glanced quickly down each corridor and leaned in, speaking quietly. Julian found himself leaning closer as well. “I know he went to see you last night, and I was hoping you could tell me if he was okay.” She pulled back suddenly, looking worried. “Not that I think you did anything, and you don’t have to tell me what happened, I just… I worry about him.”

Julian felt himself smiling. She was quite the opposite of her father, and he could certainly see what both Kira and Garak saw in her. She seemed genuinely concerned, and he couldn’t exactly fault her for that. Yes, a distracted Garak at a time like this worried him a bit, too. But why would he be distracted?

“Truthfully, Ziyal,” he started slowly, “it could be any number of things.” Their conversation last night only being one of them. Knowing Garak, it may have nothing at all to do with what they expected. “What did he tell you about last night?” Perhaps he could come to a better conclusion if he knew what he’d passed onto her.

“Only that he went to see how you were doing after hearing about, well…” she motioned to all of him, and he nodded, allowing her to continue. “He said you were irritated and didn’t want any company. And he refused to say any more about it.”

 “Well, he wasn’t lying.” Julian let out a breath. “And he didn’t say anything else?”

She shook her head, and then paused, looking hesitant. “Well… he didn’t _say_ anything else, but… he seemed frustrated. I… you know how he is. We both do. I think he’s worried about you.”

Julian laughed. “Me?”

“I mean it!” She insisted. “People around the station have been talking ever since your secret was revealed. Ever since yesterday, it seems like it’s all anyone cares about. A lot of people are afraid of you, and fear makes people do foolish things. Almost everyone else thinks you’ll leave, too, and I think he’s worried about that.”

“About me leaving? Or someone doing something foolish?” He still couldn’t fight back a small grin, despite (or perhaps because of) how serious she looked about it all. The whole situation seemed so unusual.

“Both.” A slight crease appeared between her faint eye ridges. “ _Are_ you going to leave?”

Julian sobered up a little, breathing out slowly. “It might be better if I did, especially if everyone seems uncomfortable with me here.” He shrugged. “And it’s not as though I have much to keep me here anymore.”

Ziyal shook her head in earnest. “But you have your friends!” she insisted. “We need you. I know Garak does.”

Julian laughed again. “I think they could all manage just fine without me. _Especially_ Garak.”

Still, the girl shook her head. “But he loves you, Mr. Bashir… er, Julian.”

“Love?” For a moment, his brain shorted out. When it had successfully rebooted, he replayed the last words in his mind, and yes, he had heard correctly.

“Of course!” She smiled at him as though he were being the silly one. “Just as you and I love him! We and Odo are his only friends on this station! All of us, outcasts. I think, if you left, he would be devastated, even if he never showed it.”

Ah. He felt himself relax a little. “You didn’t mean romantic love, then, did you? Platonic love is what you meant.”

She ducked her head and averted her eyes as she turned pinker. “Oh. I, uh, meant only that we both care about him and want him to be happy.” She wrung her fingers together, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t think he… I mean… he doesn’t feel like that about me. Romantic, I mean. You’d have more of a chance with that than I would.” She looked up, turning an even darker shade, eyes widening. “I mean, if you feel that way, that is!” She looked away again, biting her lip as though afraid to say anything more.

Julian couldn’t help but smile at the display. She was far more kind and understanding than she had any right to be considering who her father was, and how she had grown up. That also showed her strength of character. She was intelligent and observant, and had he been a little younger, he might have fallen for her himself. Not that she was too much younger than he was, but he’d grown a lot since coming to the station, and he had always been attracted to the more mature minds.

Like Jadzia. And Garak.

“Ziyal,” he said gently, hoping to turn the conversation away from him and whatever he feelings for the tailor might be. “if you don’t think he returns your feelings, then why don’t you branch out? Make friends with other people? Are Kira and Garak your only friends?”

She looked up, suddenly confused. “But you…” she trailed off a moment before frowning. “But you said that sticking with the three of you would be better. I’d be safer that way. You… discouraged making too many friends.”

Julian imagined his eyebrows must have disappeared into his hair. That didn’t sound like him at all. “I did?” She nodded, but he held a hand up to stop her before she could explain. No, he knew what happened. His Changeling replacement must have done it. It would make sense, after all. If Ziyal stuck with Garak, Kira and himself, then she would be easier to watch. And of course Dukat would want his daughter watched.

He cursed inwardly. If his double had had one kind of conversation like this with her, then how many others must he have had? Had they become friends? That would explain her eagerness at having him attend dinner with them. If he’d been doing regularly, and then not at all since his return, then it would seems a little suspicious.

But it also meant that nobody had told her. Garak he could understand; the man never told the whole story, and he seemed to have a soft spot for Ziyal. Maybe he didn’t want to worry her. But, Kira? Maybe she hadn’t realized it would be necessary. It seemed like a large blind spot. How suspicious would the girl get if Julian didn’t remember any of the supposed conversations they’d had over the month he’d been away?

He sighed, rubbing his chin. “Ziyal… May I ask you a seemingly unrelated question for a moment?”

She looked suspicious, but nodded.

“How much did Garak tell you about his time at the Dominion internment camp?”

Ziyal frowned. “I don’t think…”

“Please,” he urged, “humor me?”

But she didn’t seem to want to relent. “I’m sorry, Doctor-- Julian, but some of it was rather personal, and I wouldn’t want to divulge something he entrusted me with, just in case he hasn’t told you. I hope you understand.”

He smiled at her. “No, I understand. All right, how about this: He left with Worf to find Tain, yes?” She nodded. “And he was captured, Tain died, Worf battled Jem’Hadar. They met General Martok there, and brought him back with them when they escaped.” He paused as she nodded again, looking wary. Julian took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t suppose he also mentioned that they brought someone else back with them? A doctor, in fact. One who now, no longer holds that title, sadly.”

Ziyal gave him a look of offence, as though he were teasing her, but as he held her gaze, the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened as her mouth slowly dropped open. He nodded. She looked around, whispering, “You--? But… that would mean…” One more nod, and she gasped. “But… how long?”

“Oh, just before they changed the uniforms, I’m told.”

Emotions flittered past her face quickly, before she seemed to settle on doubt. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it just as fast, finally retreating into herself, staring hard at the floor. Julian reached out to touch her arm gently, and she looked back up.

“Ziyal, I’m sorry no one told you. I should also like to apologize for anything I may have said or done during that time.” He paused, “I didn’t do anything terrible, did I?”

Still subdued, she shook her head. “No. Not really, but… I thought we’d become friends. You were so polite and kind… but all of it was him, wasn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.” He gave her an apologetic look. “But, there’s no reason we can’t still be friends. After all, we’re all outcasts, aren’t we?” He smiled, and after a moment, she did too. 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” she looked up at him hopefully. “Garak would be awfully disappointed if you did.”

He chuckled. “Well, maybe I will stay after all. I wouldn’t want to disappoint _Garak_ now, would I?”

Her smile grew; full, honest, and kind. “Thank you, Julian.” Without warning, she kissed his cheek. She turned even pinker, and smiled. “Platonic, I promise.” When he smiled back at her, she tilted her head. “You will come to lunch tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” Ziyal waited only a moment longer before turning and disappearing down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out much longer than originally expected. Sorry for the wait.


	4. Enemies

Julian stared in the direction Ziyal had left for a while after she had disappeared from view. Perhaps his Changeling replacement had done something good after all. It was rather refreshing to learn he had a friend he wouldn’t have expected. And Garak might be pleased to learn that Julian no longer disapproved of their relationship either.

Not that Julian would ever tell him. Wouldn’t want the man getting complacent, after all.

He let out a long breath. His ‘date’ with Miles wasn’t for a good long while yet, and he was starting to get bored with wandering the Promenade (not to mention that he didn’t really want to accidentally bump into a certain Cardassian tailor.) Taking a nap might do him a world of good, considering how little he had slept the night before, and especially if he would be getting drunk later. Decision made, Julian turned on his heel and made his way to his assigned temporary quarters.

It didn’t take him long at all to realize he was being followed.

His first thought was that it was Garak, but that idea was quickly dashed away. The tailor was not nearly so sloppy, and wouldn’t have been detected quite that easily. The footfalls were long in stride and heavy in step, so it was not likely Ziyal either.

He quickened his pace a bit, and frowned when the noised followed suit.

How he wished he still had a communicator or… something.  His eyes darted around; hoping for someone he could call for assistance, or perhaps an escape route, but the only thing he came up with was a crossroads eight point three meters ahead. He might be able to duck into the adjoining corridor and wait for his stalker to catch up, but he didn’t exactly have a weapon or any real way of defending himself aside from his own strength.

Five meters…

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, and he was being paranoid.

Three meters…          

He’d been hanging around Garak too long.

Two… One… There.

He dashed into the corridor, and ran face-first into a brick wall of a humanoid. As Julian stumbled, shaking his head and reorienting himself, he eyed the large bipedal being in front of him. The man (it looked male, anyway) was human-shaped, but wore a full-body hooded grey suit, as well as gloves and a white mask, vague and featureless, hiding any defining marks.

“Uh,” Julian sputtered, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there…” Or hear you.

He briefly considered appealing to this man for help, but the large hands that suddenly clamped down on his shoulders changed his mind very quickly. He struggled against the grip, but the hands were strong and unrelenting. If he wanted to get free, he might have to resort to injuring him, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do just yet.

“Perhaps we could talk this over?”

There was a grunt. Had this man grunted? Really? Going all-out on the brute checklist, were we?

The brick wall forcibly turned him around so that he faced the way he had come, and then held him in place as two more figures, dressed in the same grey outfit and featureless mask, rounded the corner. The first one was feminine in shape, though of an average build, while the other was likely male, slightly shorter than Julian and not quite as thin. Both were humanoid, and both held a weapon; the male with a black club-looking instrument, and the woman held a Bajoran-designed item that looked vaguely phaser-like.

Julian cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you two are here to chat either?”

The man pressed a button on the club and it jolted to life, glowing slightly blue and emitting a low hum. So, a neural stunner, perhaps? Julian pressed his lips together, eyes darting around, looking for any opening.

“Perhaps over a drink?” he suggested, hoping to get one of them to talk. “I’m told I can replicate a mean tea…”

“Silence, _freak!_ ” The man brandished the club just inches away from Julian’s face, and Bashir frowned, repressing a sigh of disappointment.

This was about his enhancements. Of _course_ it was. And those who wanted to lash out at him because of them couldn’t even wait a day to do it, could they? Well, why waste time when mindless bullying was there for the taking?

The brick wall’s hands clamped down harder on his shoulders as he winced, practically guaranteeing bruises later… assuming there was a later. He wasn’t in a hopeless situation just yet, though. He started running scenarios through his mind, and came up with a few likely to get him out of this with minimal complications, both to him and his attackers.

He looked over the two figures in front of him. The female form appeared to be the lookout, head turning this way and that, down each corridor, her phaser carefully leveled at him. The male had lowered the club, but had moved in closer so the Bashir got a good look at the mask.

The perfect smoothness and the exact similarities between it and the other two gave the impression that they had been replicated, and there was a mesh in place of the eyes and mouth so that he couldn’t detect anything useful like eye color or teeth. Just sticking out of the hood, though, he could make out a few strands of dark blonde hair. That might be useful, should he get out of this.

“Look,” he began again, “I’d rather not hurt you, so if you just put down the weapons and let me free, we can all go our separate ways, and pretend this never happened.”

The woman barked a laugh, and the mountain behind him sort of chuckled, but the man in front of him gripped the club even harder and marched closer.

“You think you’re so much better than us, don’t you?!” Though the voice was distorted by the mask, and perhaps some specific device, he couldn’t help but think that it sounded vaguely familiar.

“Of course not,” Julian protested, “I--“

“Silence!!”

The man shoved the club into Bashir’s side and a jolt of pain rushed through his every nerve until he felt as though he were on fire. Maybe he screamed, he wasn’t sure; the ringing in his ears drowned out other sound. He could feel his muscles spasm with each agonizing second.

And then, it abruptly stopped, leaving Julian gasping. Thankfully, he had remained upright, but was now leaning heavily on the brute captor behind him. He’d gone nearly limp, and was being held up without much difficulty.

“People like you nearly destroyed everything!” The man with the club spat at him. “You shouldn’t even exist!”

Julian, breathing heavily, maneuvered his feet so that he had some support of his own without seeming to take his weight off his walking prison cell. Licking his dry lips, he whispered out a hoarse, “The Eugenics Wars were hundreds of years ago. Things have changed.”

“My grandfather was _tortured_ and _murdered_ on Regula I!!”

Bashir cringed. All right. That was a bit more recent than the Eugenics Wars. Of course, at fifteen, when he’d discovered what had been done to him, he’d read anything and everything he could get his hands on about Earth’s past in genetic engineering, as well as the wars and anything on Khan. And then, after joining Starfleet, he was able to read some of the more classified things. He knew very well what had happened on Regula I.

It was personal to this man; that made him all the more dangerous.

“Killed by Kahn!” The man continued, “An Augment, just like you!”

“Yes, Kahn, fine! But not me!” Julian snapped back, “See reason! I am a doctor, not a Kahn!”

“You’re nothing!”

The man lunged, but the anger had made him sloppy. A quick twist of the hips, and Julian was able to avoid the club, instead, having it hit the man behind him. The hands on his shoulders tensed and twitched, but didn’t let go, so he bent down slightly, then pushed off the ground with all the strength he could muster, jamming his head into the mountain’s neck and jaw. Stars danced in front of his eyes after the impact, but the hands released him, so he stumbled out of the way of the two flailing men, catching his breath and regaining his balance.

Bashir had only just had time to look up to see the woman before he felt the pulse of the phaser hit him. A heat spread through his body, but dissipated into numbness. His legs gave way, and he hit the ground hard, his shoulder making a horrible popping noise. Dislocated. He wanted to cringe, but his muscles wouldn’t respond. He felt himself shudder, the dawning realization that he was now helpless.

One of them said something, but the roaring ringing in his ears muffled the sound. His hand twitched. Was he regaining feeling? Yes. Good. Must have been a low stun setting. Maybe they didn’t realize how fast he could recover from one of those.

He tried to move his hand again, but could only feel it sluggishly respond. Just a little longer. What were they doing? All three were out of his vision. All he could see was the wall and floor. He could hear them move behind him, but couldn’t really make out what they were doing. He had feeling in both hands now, his right leg, and a little bit in his shoulders. If he could just get enough motor function to roll over, he could--

His senses exploded with pain once more. Fireworks burst in a prism of color before his vision, and a burning electric sensation seemed to flow through him into even his teeth and hair. He screamed. He must have. Or was that the ringing in his ears again? He was drifting, or floating.

And then there was nothing.


	5. Healing

He drifted towards consciousness slowly, every muscle in his body screaming whenever he moved, even the slightest bit. Somehow he knew he’d been moved from the corridor, even though he had yet to open his eyes. It was much warmer, for one; he was sweating slightly. Thirty-six Celsius, perhaps. Not overly hot, but not exactly comfortable. And the sounds of the station echoing off the walls gave him the impression of a room, rather than a hallway. At least he was still on the station; he could tell that much. He was laying on his back, on what felt like a bed, a sheet covering him to his shoulders. He couldn’t hear anyone nearby just yet. Was he alone?

He took mental stock of his injuries before opening his eyes. Sprained wrist, fractured ribs, minor abrasions as well as some significant bruising all over. His shoulder seemed to have been relocated, though it had been poorly done, and was still rather painful to move. But he wasn’t dead. Not yet anyway.

Slowly, he squinted into the dim lights above him. His eyes yelled at him for the sudden change, but he adjusted quickly. Looking around, he immediately recognized where he was.

If only Jadzia knew he had ended up in Garak’s bed after all…

“Ah, the doctor awakes.”

Julian’s eyes snapped quickly to the familiar Cardassian form as it entered the room. He was momentarily disoriented from the quick movement, but it passed soon enough. “Mm,” he groaned, “what happened?” If he was in Garak’s quarters, then he assumed he’d been rescued from his attackers, but he wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been out. And with Garak, a lot can happen in a small amount of time.

The tailor sat down on a chair next to the bed, setting a glass of water and a damp rag on the end table next to him. “It seems you had a disagreement with two cowardly voles and a mountain.” The tone was light, but there was a hard edge to it.

Julian attempted to sit up, but he was overcome with a wave of nausea, and collapsed back onto the bed immediately, breathing hard. A firm but gentle hand steadied him, holding his shoulder, while another placed the damp cloth on his forehead. Bashir closed his eyes tight, forcing his stomach to calm itself until he felt able to speak again. The cool feeling on his forehead helped immensely.

Julian swallowed. His mouth was extremely dry. “Where are they now?”

Garak frowned. “I regret that I don’t know. I chased them off, then brought you here.”

Bashir eyed the Cardassian with a look of disbelief. “You let them go?” Not that he minded too much, but it seemed an unlikely scenario.

The tailor considered. “I may have maimed them a little, but your safety was more important. I do hope you don’t mind.”

Julian closed his eyes again. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what Garak had done to them to chase them off (or that he believed he didn’t know where they were) but right now, he didn’t much care. He should, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to work up any feeling for them.  He would get back to that topic later. Right now he had something more important on his mind.

He opened his eyes. “May I have some of that water?”

“Certainly.” With a good amount of pain, shifting, and grunting, the two of them managed to get Julian into enough of an elevated position that he wouldn’t drown himself trying to drink, and he downed the liquid quickly.

Once he no longer felt overly dehydrated, Julian asked, “How long was I out?”

“An hour. Give or take a few minutes.”

“How did you find me?”

The devious smile crept onto Garak’s face, immediately putting Julian on edge. “Well, after I saw Ziyal return to the Promanade without you, I closed shop and went to find you. I had some things I wished to discuss, you see. But I stumbled upon your unfortunate predicament instead.” He waved his hands at Julian in a ‘there you have it’ gesture. “As I said, I chased them off, and brought you here.”

Julian tilted his head, going over the explanation. Still, something seemed off. “Why bring me here? To you quarters. Surely the Infirmary would be a more logical choice.”

Garak nodded. “Convenience. It was closer than the Infirmary.”

“But you could have called security to transport me or for a medical team to meet you in the corridor…”

“You are right, of course.” The smile was still there, but it looked tight and forced now. “I simply made an error in judgment. I shall keep your suggestions in mind for next time.”

“Next time?” Julian shook his head. “I certainly don’t look forward to a next time, Garak.” He glanced at the Cardassian, whose expression had become blank and unreadable. “Well, go ahead and contact medical now. They can transport me or meet us here.”

Still wearing the blank mask, Garak stared at Julian in silence before answering. “I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Garak.” Julian said sternly, “I need medical attention. Why should we not contact the Infirmary?”

“You are perfectly capable of performing those duties yourself, Julian.”

Bashir could feel his anger surfacing, and had to squash it down enough so that he didn’t actually yell at the man in front of him (and his ribs thanked him), though he kept his tone harsh. “But I’m not _allowed_ to perform them! No genetically enhanced human is allowed to practice medicine. I could be arrested!”

The tailor’s lips curled upwards, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something was going on in that reptilian mind of his, and Julian wasn’t sure he liked it.

“I won’t tell Starfleet if you don’t.”

“You won’t--“ Julian stared at him incredulously, his mouth hung open. He blinked, regaining his thoughts. “Garak, if anyone _did_ find out, what small freedom I have left will be taken away! They’ve let me go about my life thus far because my father gave up his freedom for two _years_ in exchange for mine. And the condition was that I give up my job! I can’t do it.”

But the Cardassian didn’t seem fazed by his words. “I assure you, no one will discover it if you do.”

“That’s not the _POINT_!” The force of the last word sent a shot of pain at his ribs, and he hissed, clutching them and gritting his teeth and eyes. He forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily until he felt he had calmed down enough to look at Garak without snapping again, but when he looked up, the man was gone. He didn’t have much time to wonder where, though, as a moment later, he’d returned to the room carrying a large grey case that Julian recognized immediately.

A medical kit. A professional one, at that; the kind one might keep on a runabout in case of emergencies. “Where did you…?”

“I didn’t steal it, I assure you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The tailor set the case down on Julian’s lap. “Will this be sufficient?”

Bashir frowned, crossing his arms. “I won’t use it.”

“Then you wish to remain injured.”

“No, I wish to go to the Infirmary.” He pushed the case off of his lap and onto the bed with one finger and gave Garak a challenging look. “What are you playing at Garak? Why won’t you let me go? Am I your prisoner now?” To think, just earlier, he’d be imagining kissing the man. Now, he was furious with him.

The tailor heaved a great sigh, sitting back down on the chair and rubbing his temple. The blue eyes glanced back up at the human, looking him over carefully. Finally, Garak frowned, saying quietly, “Julian, I have reason to believe your attackers have ties to Starfleet. Delivering you to their hands could mean they have the ability to finish what they started.”

Julian’s eyebrows shot up at the accusation, but all he could do was mutter out a disbelieving, “What?”

“That neuro-baton that was so gracelessly used against you had been confiscated by Odo’s people last week during a skirmish at Quark’s.” he explained, almost casually, “The most logical explanation as to how your attackers got a hold of it is that at least one of them works for security.”

Julian let out a nervous laugh. “It could have been another one, you know. I’m certain that it wasn’t the only one produced. There can be more than one on the station at any given time.”

But Garak was already shaking his head. “And how would they have smuggled it in? Not easily. And that also doesn’t account for the corridors I found you in. There was no security patrolling those halls, and no one within earshot of your attack. It sounds as though the corridors had been cleared of any activity in order to get away with their crimes.” Julian opened his mouth to reply, but the tailor held up a hand to stop him. “Julian, you were targeted because of your enhancements. Most non-humans wouldn’t even care. This makes your assailants human, and most likely working in Starfleet in some capacity aboard this station. Putting you back in their hands only begs for disaster.”

The human frowned, not wanting to believe it, but having no real arguments against it. It wasn’t something he wanted to consider at all. It was bad enough he’d lost his position and profession, but now he was to believe that people he possibly knew and worked with were to blame for what had happened? It wasn’t possible.

He pushed thoughts of Eddington’s betrayal forcefully away.

He forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood and distract himself from his thoughts. “Garak, you can’t condemn the entire staff for the actions of three individuals. Your distrust of Starfleet is borderline paranoid.”

The Cardassian’s nose twitched as though fighting back a sneer. “I distrust Starfleet because they have given me reason to. And you shouldn’t trust them so blindly, having put you in this position in the first place with their terrible rules.”

“Alright.” Julian conceded bitterly, hoping to put an end to that line of thought before it truly got going. “No doctors. No security. I’ll simply grin and bear the pain and allow those criminals to continue to run free, while I constantly look over my shoulder, paranoid, just like you.”

The noise that came from Garak’s throat sounded suspiciously like a growl, sending shivers down Julian’s spine. It was dark and primal, and locking eyes with the Cardassian making it only made matters worse. The tailor’s hands clenched tight so his knuckles stood out white against the dark grey.

Bashir took a steadying breath, hoping to be able to diffuse the situation before he was in too deep. “Look, Garak, I won’t risk my freedom by using that kit. And I thank you for your help and concern, but I will be going to Odo as soon as I am able. If it will make you feel better, I’ll make certain he’s the only one I tell, and try to convince him that he should be the only one to know… except maybe Sisko. I highly doubt either of them were involved. I’m also not certain you can convince me any of my former medical staff did this either. I trust them.”

“Then you’re more naïve than I thought.” The tailor replied coldly. “I will not help you to the Infirmary. If you wish to risk your health and your life, then you will have to do so on your own.” He stepped aside and motioned to the exit. “There is the door.”

Julian’s shoulders slumped. “Garak, you know I won’t be able to get very far very easily on my own.” The Cardassian seemed about done with the conversation, rolling his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together, so he continued. “And, as I said, I won’t use that kit.” Julian smiled wide, an idea suddenly popping into his head and moving immediately to his mouth. “So I suppose the only alternative is for you to heal me yourself.”

The sudden choking and sputtering noises coming from his companion were almost too humorous to repress his giggling, despite the sharp jabs of pain with every chuckle. Garak’s eyes were nearly as big as saucers, as surprised as he had ever seen the man. The chuckles bloomed into full laughter, until the pain became too much and he had to suck in deep shuddering breaths, eyes shut tight, his mind working fitfully to calm himself down.

There was a sharp click and, opening his eyes, he could see the tailor staring hard into the opened medical kit, ice blue eyes taking in every detail. The eyes flicked once to Julian before returning to their prey. Garak visibly swallowed, reaching out for one of the hyposprays, but pulled back suddenly as though it might strike out at him. The voice that came from his mouth then was small and unsure. “Julian, I am not a healer.”

“No,” Julian agreed, risking a small touch of his hand on the tailor’s. “But when have you ever backed out of a challenge?”

The man frowned at him, but a touch of the insecurity seemed to have vanished. “I am more likely to kill you than heal you.” He said with a growl, “I don’t know what half these instruments do.”

But you’ve already opened the case, and are discussing it. Julian smiled; he had him. “Good thing I know exactly what each one of them does. All you have to do now is follow my instructions. And this way, we can patch me up without having to break any rules. No law against telling someone else how to practice medicine.”

A slow smile spread across the scaled face, full of both amusement and admiration. “My dear, I never knew you could be so devious. It suits you.”

It was hardly devious, but Julian returned the grin anyway, glad that he’d managed to ease the tension between them. He turned the kit so that he could see inside, and pointed to the hypospray on the furthest left. “That one first.” He said, “Press it to my neck, right here.” He tilted his head back, exposing the spot indicated. For a moment, he thought he saw Garak tense up, but the moment passed and the tailor did as told. As the hiss of injection sounded, Julian felt a soothing warmth spread through him, easing a majority of the pain.

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief, watching the Cardassian return the tool back to its slot. “Now you’ll want to grab the osteogenic stimulator… yes, that one, there. Now, help me take my shirt off.”

Garak froze, eyes staring at Julian as though his head had just burst into flames. The reaction itself caused Julian to seriously rethink what had just happened. Yes, he had just asked that, hadn’t he? Well, serves him right. That was for their first meeting in the Replimat. How does it feel?

Bashir managed to (barely) refrain from laughing, and kept his tone professional. “We don’t have a biobed available, so this will make things much easier without the cloth blocking your sight.” Still looking unconvinced, Julian continued to calm the Cardassian. “It’s just a human chest, Garak. I imagine you’ve seen a few in your wanderings.”

The calm blank mask came first, followed quickly by a coquettish smile. “Julian, I worry about what, exactly, you have me doing in that imagination of yours.”

There was the tease that always came; the one that may or may not mean more; the one that might imply the attraction that Julian was sure he now felt. Was he doing the right thing? Would Garak be disgusted by what he saw? Or, even more terrifying; would he be pleased? Was he getting in over his head already? Did he really want this?

Wait, no, this was professional. Garak had shown he could be professional. This wasn’t Julian asking Garak to ravish him, but to simply remove a layer of clothing. And a man without a shirt on was hardly the most seductive thing… to a human. Would it be to a Cardassian? Come to think of it, he’d never seen a Cardassian shirtless, but then, the station was supposed to be rather cold for their tastes. Julian wouldn’t be going around topless in the winter, after all.

Pulling Julian from his frantic worry, Garak wordlessly set down the instrument and helped to pull the clothing over Julian’s head without too much trouble, exposing his golden skin to the dim light. He watched the Cardassian then fold the shirt delicately into a triangle, setting it on the end table next to the glass.

The blank mask was back as the blue eyes roamed over the exposed skin, making Julian only slightly uncomfortable. He knew that the room had, in fact, not gotten hotter, but it certainly felt like it. He cleared his throat and pointed to the severe bruising at his ribcage. “Use the osteogenic stimulator here.”

Blinking quickly, as though startled out of his own thoughts (whatever those might have been…) Garak picked up the instrument once more and pressed it hard against the indicated area, drawing an immediate yelp of pain from his patient. The hands drew back instantly as spots danced across Julian’s vision, and he gasped. He was incredibly glad they’d already applied some painkiller, or that would have been disastrous.

“A bit… gentler… than that… if you don’t mind.” Julian breathed, looking up at the man next to him. He was standing now, the stimulator having fallen to the floor sometime in the interim. The tailor’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated, his nostrils flared with each harsh breath. He didn’t even move when Julian called his name questioningly, so the human reached out, taking his hand. The pulse was racing far faster than it should be. This was almost exactly the reaction he had seen in the Dominion camp; fear. But it wasn’t claustrophobia this time, so what was it? Because he had hurt him and felt terrible about it? Perhaps. But knowing Garak, it could really be anything.

“Garak.” Julian tried again gently. “Garak, it’s all right. Just try again.” But still no reaction. He was starting to worry. “Garak…” He pulled the man down, and slowly, the Cardassian complied, returning to his sitting position. “Garak, listen to me… whatever it is, it’s all right. I’m not in the best of condition, but we can fix that if you just pick up the stimulator. You can do this.” Still nothing. Julian licked his lips nervously, deciding to pull out his secret weapon.

“Elim?”

A flutter of recognition finally flashed over the scaled face, and the eyes focused again on the human before him. The mouth opened slightly, as though he was going to say something, but instead, he bent over to pick up the stimulator, staring at it warily. “Doctor, this is the most foolish idea you have ever had.”

‘Doctor’ now, was it?

“I’m not a doctor anymore,” Julian said firmly, “which is why, since you’re so adamant about me not going to the Infirmary, you need to do as I say so that I’m not stumbling around with a fractured rib and enough bruises to make a Klingon jealous.”

The Cardassian’s expression turned sour. “I have never been experienced in taking pain _away_ , Julian.” He put a hard emphasis on the word ‘away,’ fixing him with a hard glare, but Bashir wasn’t about to let this continue.

“And doctors make terrible patients. We all have our faults. Now, place the osteogenic stimulator against my ribs, _gently_ , and turn it on.”

He held the man’s gaze for what felt like an eternity, but Julian refused to be the first to give in. And, to his great surprise, Garak’s jaw tightened, but he looked away and down to the bruising. Wordlessly, he pressed the stimulator against the affected area and soon the only sound was the gentle hum of healing. Julian closed his eyes, listening to his body, and correcting the tailor’s movements (“To the right a little. Yes. Now move up and down slowly. Like that.” No, that didn’t sound sexual at all, Julian. Stop it, this is not the time.) as the mending took place.

“Good…” Julian breathed once it was done, opening his eyes. Garak had the blank look again as he replaced the item to its place in the kit. “I feel much better, thank you.” A nod was given in acknowledgement, but nothing more. Not talking to him now? Well, fine. They would tackle the man’s mood later, but first, there was healing to be done.

Julian talked Garak through the rest of the process, mending the bruises and scratches, and the shoulder as best as they could manage with what they had, the tailor staying silent all the while. He was still going to be very sore for a while yet, but it would be anything he couldn’t manage, now.

When everything was done and the supplies all put away, Julian offered another, “Thank you. You did well.”

The Cardassian gave him a scathing look, as he closed the medical kit with a snap. “Don’t thank me yet, my dear. You have yet to stand and your tormentors are still free. There is plenty left to go wrong.”

Julian chuckled. “Help me up, then.”

Garak got to his feet, pushing the chair back and moved the medical kit onto the seat he’d vacated. His smile was back, but the eyes were wary as he offered his hand to Julian. Carefully, Bashir took the hand and managed to get to his feet without wobbling too much. His knees felt a little weak, but he was otherwise fine. He looked up to Garak to thank him again, but the Cardassian’s gaze was running up and down Julian’s figure, making it even more obvious at how half-naked he still was.

It took a good amount of effort not to let his embarrassment show on his face, but he thought he managed quite well.  Still gripping onto the man’s hand, he let his hazel eyes meet the blue.

“Garak,” He started, making a decision, “were you serious, yesterday, about having me work with you?”

The tailor’s eyes flicked down to their hands quickly before returning to his eyes, but he did not pull away. He didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, it was quiet, with a hint of uncertainty. “Yes, of course, Julian.”

He smiled. “And you will teach me the finer points of sewing, and the glory of hemming, and the absolute thrill of hand embroidery?”

Some of the tension in Garak’s shoulders eased as he gave the human an amused smirk. “If you wish it, my dear.”

Now he was getting somewhere. He grinned at the man, all teeth, and batted his eyes as annoyingly obviously as he could. “Perhaps I’ll become so good at it that I’ll rival you, and I’ll start selling my own line of clothes.”

Garak clicked his tongue and eyed him dryly. “Let’s not be too optimistic, Julian. We will first have to teach you the color wheel and what combinations are offensive to the eyes before I ever let you near my drafting materials.” The tailor used his free hand to pat the human one already in his grasp, allowing an expression of deep pity to show. “You may be beyond help, but I shall do my best.”

Bashir laughed. They were back in familiar territory. This. This was what he loved! And imagine having this every day, now. Working with this. Laughing and teasing just like this.

Well, maybe not quite shirtless, but…

He considered. This was a turning point in their relationship, regardless of what happened next, so why not try something bold? Jadzia had suggested kissing (or more.) Could he? Should he? The consequences of such an action flashed through his mind. Death, injury, lost friendship, or…

It was the ‘or’ that made his heart flutter, his breathing to hitch ever so slightly. The Cardassion tilted his head at him curiously.

“You know…” Julian leaned in, conspiratorially, clearing his throat, “Jadzia and I talked about you earlier today.”

“Oh?” Looking thoroughly amused, Garak raised his eye ridges. “And what did the dear Lieutenant have to say about this poor old tailor?”

Bashir made a show of considering his answer, taking his sweet time. He waited until the Cardassian looked impatient enough to speak again, and then leaned in, giving a quick, testing peck on the lips.

The hand on his twitch ever so slightly, but when it was clear that Julian was neither going to be pushed away, nor murdered on the spot, he went in for a second helping.

This time, he absorbed it; everything he could. The taste… somewhat dark and spicy. The texture… Much softer and warmer than he’d expected. The smell, deep and musty. He breathed it all in.

After a brief moment of uncertainty, Garak did return the gesture, though perhaps not as enthusiastically as his companion. Julian allowed his free hand to tentatively caress the scales at the Cardassian’s jaw, then brushing through the silky hair behind. Finally, he gently pulled back, licking his lips of the lingering taste.

Garak blinked at him, slowly breathing out. “She said all that, did she?”

“Well, more or less.”

The tailor turned away, looking up thoughtfully. “If I had known she felt that way, I wouldn’t have wasted my time with you.” He moved to leave, but Julian kept grip on his hand, pulling him back with an annoyed, “GARAK.”

“My dear, you are the one who relayed the message.”

Julian let out a frustrated sigh. “You know what I meant, Garak! I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Are you?” The Cardassian fixed him with a scrutinizing glare. “It would seem a cruel joke otherwise.”

“You are, by far, the most irritating--“ Julian stopped, let out a low growl and frowned at his companion. “You, sir, have been flirting with me for years! Don’t deny it! Now, I think I’ve just made myself very clear with my answer. Don’t try and sly your way out of this one! Do you want this or not?”

There was a pause that made a cold stone settle in his gut. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”

“No?” He was getting angry again, but it didn’t matter now. He could get angry if he wanted. “First of all, I’m fairly certain that you’re the one who’s been asking with all your gestures and hints and teases and clues, not me. Secondly,” he jabbed a finger at the tailor’s chest. “I am no longer that fresh, young, naïve Starfleet Officer, and you are no longer an Obsidian Order operative. We’re both outcasts now. I’ve finally run out of reasons we shouldn’t at least try. What is your hesitation? You didn’t seem to mind the kiss!”

Garak was still once more, staring at him blankly, but Julian could see the gears turning in that alien mind, flashing through excuse after reason after lie. But he wasn’t about to let him think long enough to come up with a perfectly reasonable lie that would make the two of them never see each other again. He took both of the tailor’s hands in his and tried to sound as gentle as possible. “Garak, if you don’t want this, that’s fine. We can go back to being just friends. Goodness knows I’ve been rejected before.  We can even still do lunch, and if the offer is still on the table, I’ll even still take that job. But tell me, if this isn’t something you’ve wanted, then why make it seem like you have for so long?”

Garak let out a sigh as though relieved to be given an out, but didn’t answer right away. He took a moment to stare down at their hands before whispering, “Perhaps it was just a game. A game to pass the time on this miserable station. A game I never expected you to join.”

It was so strange, Julian thought, seeing his friend like this; Uncertain, quiet, trying obviously to mislead him and failing spectacularly. Either this was an entirely new level of lies or he’d stumbled upon a deep, raw truth. And that unnerved him more than it should have.

“Garak…” Julian began, but stopped, deciding to try the other name again. “Elim.” The word still felt odd on his tongue, but the blue eyes were on him immediately. He couldn’t deny that it was effective. He plowed on. “Even if that were true, what are you going to do now that I _have_ decided to join the game?”

He watched the Cardassian as he seemed to deflate a little. “You’re right.” He said, letting out a breath, “It’s unfair to you. It’s time to end this game.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed at the man, taking in the meaning. He frowned, pulling his hands suddenly from his friend’s grasp, somewhat satisfied at the startled and slightly offended look he received in response.

“I was going to stay.” He growled, keeping their eyes locked. “I was going to stay, for you. You offered me a job. You might have just saved my life! I can understand not wanting to rush into something, but if you’re going to stand there and pretend that you don’t… that I’m not someone you care about, even though there’s plenty of evidence to the contrary, then I will be packed and on a shuttle come morning!”

He turned to storm out of the room, despite the passing thought that his shirt was still on the bedside table, but a firm grasp on his wrist stopped him. He allowed the strong hands to pull him back, turn him around, and hold him in place by his upper arms.

“Julian.” The voice was husky and quiet, but firm. The pale eyes studied his face before looking just past him, as though afraid to meet his eyes as he spoke. “I have… never been one to trust easily. Everyone I have ever cared for has either left me or betrayed me…” he paused, looking to be in a mental debate, before adding, “Or I have betrayed them.” He let out a long sigh, gently moving one hand down Julian’s arm, to brush his fingers. “I should advise you to take that shuttle. To run as far away from me as you can… But I am a selfish, sentimental old fool.”

It looked like he was going to say more, but the silence lingered long enough that Julian decided to step in. “Shall we be selfish, sentimental fools together, then?”

The Cardassian’s eyes returned to his, frantically searching for… what? Hope? Maybe. Finally, he said cautiously, “I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”

“Neither am I, but the pros are starting to vastly outweigh the cons.” Julian leaned in closer, breathing into Garak’s ear. He heard a soft sigh and smiled. “I’m willing to try.”

Bashir let his lips brush the scales covering the man’s jawline. Garak sucked in air suddenly, and tensed, but didn’t pull away, so he placed a kiss on those scales. And another. He let them trail down to the neck before a hand was place on his chest and he was gently pushed back. “Julian… I… Not this. Not now.”

“Will you at least tell me why?”

But no answer came. Julian nodded and took a step back. This was not how he’d wanted to go at all… It was still salvageable, however. He could do this.

“Then,” He began, “how about we start with lunch tomorrow, and see where we go from there?”

Garak considered for a while, and then nodded, adding cautiously, “Unless, of course, you still have an overwhelming desire to become a tailor. In which case, I will see you at my shop tomorrow morning… 0800?”

Julian grinned somewhat overenthusiastically. It wasn’t ruined yet. “I’ll be there!” He turned to head towards the door, laughing inwardly as the Cardassian sputtered behind him.

“Great Gul, Julian!” Garak said with exasperation. “Put your shirt on!”

When Bashir turned around, the folded cloth triangle was thrust at him, and, with a ridiculously childish giggle, pulled it back over his head. It was not exactly ‘fresh’ anymore, wrinkled and covered in light marks where the baton and the phaser had hit him. He would have to change before his night out with Miles, but first…

“Garak. I need to talk to Odo now. Will you escort me?”

There was a hesitation, and look of disapproval, but instead of arguing, the tailor suggested, “I will call him here instead, if you don’t mind.”

Julian smiled. “Of course.”


	6. The First

The meeting with Odo went surprisingly well. Even though Garak had been rather vague about his reasons for calling the Constable to his quarters, Odo arrived in good time, with little questioning, making Julian rethink the relationship between the two. Not for the first time, he wondered if something more had happened between them during their time in the Gamma Quadrant than what had been reported by either. He filed his observations away to be investigated in the future.

The Chief of Security listened to their story of what happened with interest (Garak giving the Constable only barely more information about the incident than he had told Julian,) understandably wary when they mentioned the possible connection to his security team, but didn’t argue the matter as much as Julian might have thought. He didn’t like the suggestion that he be the only person to look into the matter, but understood the reasoning. He cautioned them that having him be the only on the job would make the investigation slow, at best, but neither of them could come up with another solution that Garak didn’t shoot down immediately. And, as expected, he would have to inform Sisko, to which they agreed.

Afterwards, the Cardassian escorted Julian to his quarters to change (Garak was sure to be out of the room while he switched clothes) and then to see Miles, who was busy fixing one of the turbolifts on the Promenade. The Chief greeted them both distractedly, even giving Garak a hesitant nod before returning to his work.

“It’ll just be another 15 minutes or so, Julian,” Miles spoke into the wiring as he fiddled away, “Rinn!” He paused, looking around, “Now, where did she run off to?”

Julian frowned at the unusual comment. “Missing someone?”

Miles tilted his head. “Yeah. Rinn. Crewman Lara Rinn. She was just here helping me…” He scratched his head with the tool in his. “She was complaining that her wrist was hurting her. Maybe she went to the infirmary?” But he didn’t look too certain about that.

“Her wrist?” Garak perked up with sudden interest. Julian was pretty sure he knew what the man was thinking, and he didn’t like it one bit. During their debriefing with Odo, Garak had mentioned that he’d grabbed the woman by the wrist to knock the phaser out of her hand, and this was certainly a suspicious coincidence. He threw him a glare, but the Cardassian feigned innocence, as usual. “I do hope she’s all right.”

Miles looked up at the tailor as though surprised he was still there.

“Garak.” Julian warned, hoping he wouldn’t have to say anything in front of the Chief about the matter. Besides the fact that they were trying to keep the investigation secret, Miles wouldn’t take kindly to a Cardassian accusing one of his own crew of attacking his best friend.

 _Just go tell Odo of your suspicions._ Julian pleaded with him silently, realizing that he should have made Garak promise not to take matters into his own hands. The idea made him immediately uncomfortable. Sometimes he forgot (or more like, willingly ignored) the fact that the tailor had once been a killer.

Garak gave them both a smile. “Forgive me. I shall take my leave. I do hope the both of you have a lovely evening.”

Julian crossed his arms, watching him walk away, only feeling slightly reassured that he was heading in the direction of Odo’s office. He hoped that he wouldn’t be seeing the man in a cell next time they spoke. That would certainly put an end to those intimate thoughts he’d been having (Probably?)

“What was that all about?” Miles mumbled, looking slightly bewildered.

Julian only shook his head. “Oh, you know Garak.” He shrugged, hoping that would be enough to make the man less suspicious.

The Chief made a grunting noise and returned to his work. “I still don’t know what you see in him.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad…” Julian said offhandedly, unwilling to get into the same old argument right now. He wanted to forget about the man for a while. “Tell me about Rinn. I don’t recognize the name. Is she new?” At least, he could try and do some of his own investigation.

“Oh, yeah. Only been assigned here about a month.” He paused in his work, switching out tools. “Why? Lookin’ for a new girl?” He gave Julian a knowing smile, making the man fidget. “She’s pretty good lookin’, too.”

Julian forced a smile, giving a noncommittal, “Maybe.”

“I’ll introduce you, if you’d like.” Miles offered. “You need a good girl. You’ve gone without a long while.”

“Thanks, Chief.” He replied half-heartedly, “I guess I’m just going through a rough patch.” He certainly wasn’t going to bring up his newfound feelings for the Cardassian. At least not until he knew where he stood, both with Garak and himself.

His eyes drifted to the direction that the Cardassian had left. He certainly hoped Garak was going to tell Odo about the woman.

“Well, ready?”

Julian shook himself out of his worry. Miles had already closed up the control panel and was grabbing his toolbox. “Oh, yes.”

The Chief nodded. “We’ll have to stop by my quarters real quick so I can change. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

They walked in relative silence back to the habitat ring. Keiko and Molly greeted the both of them warmly. Keiko gave him gentle looks of pity, but didn’t bring up the subject. Molly, however, stared at him for a while before saying with a tone of curiosity, “Mommy and daddy say you’re different, but you look the same as before.”

Julian stood before her, awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. How could he explain to someone so young what had happened to him? (and he’d been about her age when it did) Thankfully, Miles rode to the rescue, saying bitterly, “He IS the same as before. Starfleet’s just being stupid.”

“Miles!” Keiko berated him, but didn’t seem to have anything more to add.

“Look, Molly. Mommy’ll explain it once we leave.” The Chief glanced over at his wife, who nodded. “Just keep in mind that Uncle Julian’s no different than he ever was, okay?”

The girl still looked confused, but she nodded to her father, turning then to Julian. He smiled at her and she smiled back. “You’ll still color with me sometimes, right?”

Julian chuckled. “If you want.”

Mind made up, as though that was all that mattered, she nodded once. “Good.” And then skipped out of the room. The three adults shared amused looks, and then moved on.

Once changed, Miles led them back to Quarks for drinks.

The Chief absolutely refused to talk about Julian’s situation for the rest of the night. When Julian first broached the subject after their first drink, Miles shoved another mug in his hand and told him to drink up. When Quark started to bring it up, O’brien forcefully advised him to bugger off. Instead, they talked about everything and nothing; how the station was holding up, which drink they should down next, their thoughts on the Dominion, how Keiko and the kids were doing, whether they needed a new set of darts or not… everything except Julian’s enhancements.

When they moved from the bar to the holosuite, the alcohol in their system caused them to fail spectacularly, losing the battle in less than half an hour. It wasn’t until they’d turned the program off, standing in the empty dark room that Miles stared hard at the floor, not looking at him, and asked out of the blue, “If it weren’t for your… you know. If you hadn’t been changed, could you have performed the procedure that saved Kirayoshi?”

Julian took in a deep breath, preparing himself to answer. Of course, he couldn’t have done it. It had taken everything he had; every ounce of brainpower at his disposal he used to save that child’s life.

And he almost hadn’t done it.

He’d considered the risks. Doing what it took could have ruined him. He’d almost made the calculated decision to let the child die. Kirayoshi nearly became the fourth in his tally. No one would have blamed him. There was nothing a normal human being could have done.

But he wouldn’t have been able to live with Miles after. He wouldn’t have been able to look in his face and comfort him in his time of loss, knowing that he could have done something to prevent it and chose not to. That he had willingly let his best friend’s child die. So, with the risk of discovery, he’d done everything in his power, and succeeded.

He’d risked everything he’d built, every secret he’d kept in order to save his best friend’s son’s life.

But he couldn’t tell Miles all that. He could never let him know. So, instead, he just replied, “No. No, I couldn’t have.”

And suddenly, he was locked in a tight embrace with the still slightly inebriated Irishman. Julian, arms pinned at his sides, awkwardly patted the man on the back until Miles pulled away, sniffing and wiping quickly at his eyes. O’brien cleared his throat suddenly and marched towards the exit to the holosuite.

“C’mon Julian,” he said a bit too loudly, “I don’t think either of us have gotten drunk enough tonight.” All indication of the previous question left in the past. Miles had made it clear that tonight was a night away from his worries. So, at his friend’s insistence, Julian followed him back down to the bar, and drank until he forgot all about his problems.

 

* * *

 

<<The time is now 0700.>>

Julian groaned, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulled it over his head defiantly. His brain felt like it was trying to force its way through his skull using an antique jackhammer. What did he have last night? Beer, whiskey, at least one glass of kanar, Andorian skotch, and… something that was a strange orange and green color. Had Quark told them what it was? He couldn’t quite remember.

He thought he’d calculated how much water he’d needed to drink to avoid the pounding in his head this morning, but perhaps that last drink had thrown his estimation off. Yes, he blamed that orange and green abomination for this.

<<The time is now 0701.>>

He groaned again. Why had he set the alarm? He wasn’t exactly expected in the Infirmary anymore. After how much alcohol he’d consumed the night before, he should be allowed to sleep in. He _deserved_ to sleep in. This was unfair. He hardly even remembered setting the alarm in the first place.

Come to think of it, he only barely remembered returning to his quarters. Blurry images of punching in his entry code floated to the surface of his mind before the computer’s voice returned, squashing his coherent thought with the bluntness of a baseball bat against his eardrums.

<<The time is now 0702.>>

Ah! Garak’s shop! Yes! How could he have forgotten that?! He shot up in bed, and swayed, suddenly very dizzy. Somehow, he managed to stay upright, but when he jumped out of bed, his legs got tangled in the sheets, and tumbled over the side with a thud.

Yes, he would have to find out what that drink was and never have it again.

After untangling himself, he stood, looking at himself on the mirror on the wall. He looked awful. His eyes were red and puffy and his hair stuck out in all directions, even more than usual. Was he paler than normal? He was still wearing the same clothes from last night, now incredibly crumpled and… stained? He sniffed the brown marking, but only smelled alcohol. He hoped that’s all it was.

At this point, he was rather impressed that he had made it to the bed last night.

<<The time is now 0703.>>

“Yes, thank you, computer!”

The beep of acknowledgement sounded back at him like a gong. He winced, stumbling over to his replicator and requested his usual go-to hangover cure, but the device refused him, telling him he didn’t have the authorization for some of the ingredients. He nearly snapped at it, until he realized that his override code wouldn’t work anymore. He wasn’t a senior officer. He wasn’t a doctor. Of course some of the ingredients wouldn’t be available to the average station resident. And that’s what he was now.

He closed his eyes, instead requesting a cup of strong coffee and some mild painkillers for his head. Thankfully, the replicator allowed him that much, and he made quick work of both.

With that taken care of, he tossed his clothes in laundry refresher and took the highest pitch sonic shower he could manage in his current state. Soon enough, he had himself clean, shaved, and his hair was mostly under control. Now to get dressed.

But here, he faltered. What _should_ he wear?

He frowned at the prospect of actually having to consider his clothing options from now on. He’d been perfectly content with just throwing on a uniform and not having to think twice about it ever since he entered the Academy. He’d been proud of that uniform. He’d worn it as much as he could. But that was no longer an option. No uniform. No set dress code, and he had no idea what to do. He hardly even owned many clothes, let alone ones appropriate for his new line of work.

Come to think of it, he had no idea what was considered appropriate for tailoring. He hoped Garak wouldn’t make him wear the outfits _he_ wore. Not that they didn’t look nice on the Cardassian, but Julian had his doubts that the same would be true for him.

Bashir stared into his still mostly packed box of clothes. He had some slacks around here somewhere… ah, there. Black. Black was neutral, right? Now for the top. One, two… he counted five shirts, if he included the one he’d been wearing yesterday. That was it. Five. Which should he choose? No, not his tank top. Garak had made his feelings about that one very clear after his trip to Risa. Besides, even the tailor’s shop wasn’t warm enough for that. He had a yellow one, but he could just imagine Garak’s face if he walked in wearing it.

He smiled, amused at himself. He was picking out clothing based on what Garak would think of it. If he had told himself that a year ago, he would have laughed in his face.

Oh! Yes, the dark red one. He’d always liked that color. And it had an orange lining. Red and orange went together, didn’t they? He couldn’t imagine that the Cardassian would be able to find too much wrong with his choices, and so, pulled it over his head, satisfied that he had chosen well.

He might have to consider a new wardrobe though. Five tops, one of which was meant for vacationing in warm areas was not going to be enough to work. Good thing he was working in a tailor shop now, wasn’t it?

He looked up at the chronometer and nearly fell over, scrambling for his shoes. He was going to be late! Late for his first day! Not the best impression at all. He sped through the corridors as fast as he could manage without being a danger to anyone’s path, and managed to make it to the shop at precisely 0800.

Garak was, obviously, already inside, waiting for him when he tapped on the door, and let him in, giving him an appraising look-over, and then a gentle shake of his head.

“What?” Julian down at himself. Nothing seemed out of place. He had everything buttoned and zipped and had even grabbed matching socks.

The tailor put on what Julian recognized as his ‘work smile.’ “My dear, you may want to rethink your career.”

“What’s wrong with the outfit?” He pinched the shirt, suddenly doubting his decision.

A raised eye-ridge, as though he was surprised that Julian didn’t see it. “Those colors, first of all.”

“But red and orange go just fine together.”

“Those particular shades of dark red and blinding orange _might_ work, if there were a third, middle color to tie them together.” Garak started to circle him like a predator eyeing its prey. “And neither color suits your skin tone, or eyes. And the cut is hardly flattering.” He reached out to grab the edge of the fabric, and winced. “Those hems… I’m afraid it’s a complete loss. It will have to go.”

Julian felt himself turn red, as he sputtered, “Go?” He looked around to make certain no one had overheard that, despite the fact that the shop hadn’t opened yet, and the door was closed and locked. He’d expected the man to be awkward about what had happened yesterday, but here he was doing his usual flirting again. “Garak, I am not working without a shirt on.”

“No? Pity.” The almost seductive smile that came with the comment made Julian seriously doubt his memories of what had happened yesterday. Garak _had_ turned him down, hadn’t he? Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he was messing with him. Julian frowned as the tailor walked into his back room, returning after a moment with a small package. “Here.”

The box was plain and brown, with no labels or markings. It looked as though it had just been wiped down, but a few small streaks of dust here and there had escaped and survived. It had likely been back there a good while, making Julian incredibly curious as to what was inside. He glanced up at the Cardassian, who looked back at him with a mildly interested smile. But Julian could see the man’s fingers twitching just barely. He was dying for him to open it.

Slowly, taking some satisfaction that he might have a little sliver of control over what was going on, he opened the box to reveal a garment; a shirt. It was long sleeved, tan with a light blue lining, with somewhat of a Federation style cut, but with obvious Cardassian flair. He pulled it up and held it against his chest. Garak’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, eager, and his head tilted back a fraction.

“Well?”

Julian turned around and glanced into a mirror before answering. It didn’t look bad, even if it was a little bland for his taste. He preferred his colors a bit more bold, anyway. But it certainly seemed the right size… everywhere. He almost suspected that it had been made just for him.

He looked at Garak’s reflection in the mirror. The expression changed immediately, but Julian had caught the look of… was it admiration? He wasn’t certain of anything the tailor did anymore. But maybe he could gauge his reactions…

“I assume you want me to try it on.”

Was there a moment of hesitation? “That… would be preferable.”

Julian smiled, turning back around to face him. “Would you like me to change right here, or use a changing room?”

The expression was left carefully neutral, but the muscles in the neck tightened a little, and the scales turned a slightly darker color. Yes, now that he was absolutely paying attention, he could tell the man was still interested in him. Then why the show yesterday?

“Perhaps you should use a room.” Garak suggested, the voice sounding slightly off.

Shrugging, as though it was the other man’s loss, he obeyed, slipping into the nearest room, and switched tops. The new shirt fit snugly, but not in an uncomfortable way. He could move about easily, nothing restricting his movement. It very effectively complimented every contour and curve, and he felt himself blushing at the thought that Garak had indeed made this for him. Just for him. There was no other explanation.

But how long ago? There had been dust on the box, he was certain of it, but the man had wiped enough of it off that it was hard to determine just how long the dust may have been accumulating. Months? Years? He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He poked his head out of the changing room, seeing the Cardassian’s back to him. However, the blue eyes caught his from the reflection in the mirror. “Well?”

“It’s… nice.” Julian smiled, and then ducked back into the room to grab his old shirt before returning to the main shop. Garak had turned to face him, looking mildly concerned.

“Nice?”

Julian smiled, hoping he hadn’t insulted the man. “I mean, I like it! It’s comfortable and it looks good, I’m just… not used to the style. It’s…” He couldn’t seem to come up with more words, so he let the sentence die. The tailor was watching him, keeping his neutral expression. “Where did you get it?”

Garak waved it off. “Oh, something I’ve had lying around.”

“How long ago did you make it?”

The expression faltered a little, and Garak let out a slow breath. “Some time ago.”

Julian felt his heart melt a little. This really was a sweet gift, even if he’d made it and then didn’t give it to him for years. The fact that he’d thought to make it at all was surprising, and gave Julian some hope for their relationship.

He took a step towards the Cardassian. “Look, Garak--“ He began, but a grey hand was held up suddenly, cutting him off.

“I think you’ll understand when I say that this is no place for the conversation you are about to start.” The blue eyes fixed on him sternly. “When you are here, we are at work, and I will have no discussions of private matters in my shop. Agreed?”

Julian closed his mouth, and nodded silently, though he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. He wondered if they would be able to talk after the day was done, or if Garak would continue to make up reasons to avoid the discussion for days upon days. But he knew that pushing the matter right now would get him nowhere, so, instead, he just said, “Thank you for the shirt.”

Garak’s smile returned, looking pleased. “You are welcome, but I assure you, I did it for the customers. It wouldn’t do to lose sales simply because you can’t dress yourself.”

Julian shot him a dirty look, but let himself chuckle afterwards.

The rest of the morning was spent entering Julian’s information into the computer as a new employee (a very strange experience, to be sure) and Garak began to teach him the basics of the job; First, what to do before opening for the day, and then how to actually open the store. The Cardassian had more security than even Julian had expected, and though he was shown what was there, Garak didn’t seem to trust him yet with the codes for them. And that was fine. He wasn’t certain he was ready for that kind of responsibility on his first day anyway.

They kept their actions professional, if somewhat relaxed around each other, even when Garak was in extremely close proximity, and Julian had to make certain he didn’t appear too flustered. The damn tailor, however, was the model of nonchalant, and it irritated him to no end how easily the man could keep his cool.

When they moved onto the actual tailoring, Julian was surprised at how many different tools were needed for sewing. Besides the manual needle and thread, there were at least eight different machines for different stitching and thread thickness and style, used with different materials… and that hardly included the different items for cutting and sizing. He memorized them with his usual swiftness, but he couldn’t imagine how long it might take the average person. Luckily, Garak seemed to understand Julian’s limits, and was very patient with the questions and clarifications.

They had a few early customers, but mostly they were just looking around, and left soon enough. One of them had been a Bajoran who was obviously unfamiliar with the station, because when he saw Garak approach him, he blanched, made a quick excuse to leave, and high-tailed it out of the store without so much of a thank you or good-bye. The Cardassian took it in stride, keeping his smile plastered on, and mumbled, “Thank you for your patronage. I do hope you return soon.”

Julian wondered how often a day the man had to deal with something like that. Less so now that he’d become a presence on the Station, but still, it had to happen quite a bit. He thought back to yesterday, receiving very similar looks from various Starfleet personnel, and frowned at the thought that some of Garak’s patrons might take offence to his own presence. Would some refuse to shop here now that Garak had hired a genetically enhanced freak on as an employee or an apprentice or… whatever they were?

He glanced over at the tailor, who was busy sizing some fabric to be cut. Certainly, the man must have taken that possibility into consideration, and had offered anyway.  He’d even left the offer open after their disastrous discussion the night before, so Julian had to assume he’d truly wanted to help. There could be some ulterior motive, of course, but he couldn’t fathom what it might be.

At eleven hundred hours, while Julian was in the middle of practicing his stitching on some scrap fabric, they were visited by none other than Odo and Captain Sisko, both looking incredibly serious (not that that wasn’t Odo’s default.) Julian felt a quick stab of panic, his mind leaping to the worst possible conclusion, but managed to force it down and jumped to his feet in attention.

Sisko’s lips twitched upwards just a little. “At ease, Mr. Bashir.”

Julian relaxed a little, feeling slightly foolish. Sisko wasn’t his superior officer anymore. He didn’t have to be so formal. Garak stood as well, though a bit slower than Julian had, and gave each of the guests a smile. “Captain! Constable! What may I interest you in today? A new suit, perhaps? I don’t blame you for wanting more variety than those dreadful uniforms.”

“Garak.” Odo interrupted gruffly. The tailor quieted, but kept his calm smile.

“What can we do for you, Captain?” Julian interjected warily. Sisko turned his attention to the former doctor and looked suddenly sympathetic. Julian forced himself not to be annoyed at it. He didn’t want to be pitied, but he couldn’t deny that Sisko had tried to help him. It was only natural to react the way he was.

Odo cleared his throat (or what passed for one) and eyed Garak. “Are either of you familiar with a Crewman Lara Rinn?”

Julian’s head snapped to Garak, but the Cardassian only allowed his eye-ridges to move upwards a fraction. Sisko and Odo took obvious note of the former doctor’s reaction, but kept their gazes on the tailor. He’d almost forgotten about the woman. What had Garak done? Obviously, he hadn’t gone to Odo if the Constable was asking this question.

“The woman’s name is familiar.” Garak began lightly, “I believe the Chief mentioned her yesterday when I dropped Julian off.”

Sisko gave Julian an inquiring look, to which Julian nodded. “Miles and I had arranged for drinks and some time in the holosuite last night. We met up with him just before his shift ended, and he’d mentioned that she had been helping him work, but she’d left or disappeared just before we got there. The Chief suggested that she’d gone to the Infirmary because she’d been complaining about her wrist hurting.” He shot Garak a look, hoping that whatever he had done after leaving them wasn’t about to get him arrested. “Why?”

Odo ignored him, keeping his eyes locked on the Cardassian. “Are you certain you’ve never seen this woman before?” From behind his back, he produced a PADD, which Garak took and looked over. Julian moved closer to get a good look. On the PADD was an image of a woman with long almost black hair, smooth pale skin and dark eyes. It was obviously a personnel photo, so not much of her personality came through, but Julian was certain he’d never seen her before. Miles had been right though; she was pretty.

Garak took some time glancing the image over before answering. “I have seen her,” He admitted, handing the PADD back, “Though I wasn’t aware, at the time, of her name.”

Odo and Sisko shared a look before the Constable again eyed Garak. “And what happened?” He urged with a bit of irritation.

But Garak didn’t seem fazed by it at all. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “I was heading to my quarters last night, and saw her in the corridor of the habitat ring. She may have thought I was following her, because she glanced back at me and sped up. Her quarters were closer than mine, and she ducked inside when she reached them, locking the door behind her. I continued on to my quarters and haven’t seen her since.” He gave the two a concerned look that Julian was certain neither of them bought for an instant. “Is she all right?”

“She’s missing.” Odo grunted.

Sisko nodded. “This morning, we received a notice that she was resigning, and since then, no one has seen her.”

“Oh, dear,” Garak muttered, but Julian was certain there wasn’t any real emotion behind it. “Any reason she would resign so suddenly? I was under the impression that she’d only just arrived on the station.”

Odo scowled. “We were hoping _you_ could shed some light on that, since you’ve just admitted to being the last one to see her.”

But the tailor practically oozed innocence. “Are you implying that I may have done something to her?” He put a hand dramatically to his chest. “I assure you, the last time I saw that woman was when she had arrived in her quarters.” He paused, and then added, “Or they could have been someone else’s quarters, if she had the access code. I can’t say I’m certain they were hers.”

With a grunt and narrowed eyes, the Constable tapped at the PADD and then handed it back over. “Where did you say these quarters were?”

Julian saw a map of the habitat ring on the screen, and after a moment, Garak pointed to one of the living quarters. “That one.”

Sisko craned his neck to look, and then glanced at Odo. “Those are not her assigned quarters. Constable, have you searched them?”

“No…” The shape shifter tilted his head with irritation. “There was no reason to. Those quarters have been unassigned for almost a year.”

“Glad I could be of assistance.” Garak handed the PADD back with a smile. “Perhaps you’ll find your missing person there.”

Odo and the Captain eyed the tailor for a while in silence before Sisko nodded. “Constable, I want you to search those quarters and find out what you can about why she was using them.” He turned to Julian and, in a quieter tone, he added, “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Mr. Bashir, I promise.”

“Thanks, Captain.” He replied awkwardly.

“And, I take your presence here to mean that you’re staying with us?”

“Oh.” Julian nodded. “Yes.”

The Captain smiled. “Then I’ll see about getting you a more permanent living space.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sisko turned to leave, but Odo wasn’t done yet. He narrowed his eyes at Garak. “If I find that you have taken matters into your own hands, I will have you arrested.”

“Why, Odo,” the tailor smiled, “I find your lack of trust in me disheartening. After all our breakfasts together. I assure you, I have not harmed a hair on her head.”

“Constable!”

With a grunt, Odo obeyed Sisko’s warning and left with the Captain, throwing Garak one more dark look as he did.

Once they were alone, Julian eyed the Cardassian. He was far too calm about the whole thing, and that put Julian on the edge. He cleared his throat, and Garak looked over suddenly, as though he’d forgotten the human was there.

“Garak,” Bashir started carefully, “You didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

The tailor rolled his eyes with a sigh. “My dear Julian, why would I lie?”

“Garak.” The frown he shot the man was as harsh as he could manage. “I won’t have you going over security’s head on my account. If you suspected she was one of my attackers, why didn’t you tell Odo?”

“I have done nothing illegal.” The Cardassian assured him. “And what I told them was all true. I haven’t harmed her at all.”

“But you know where she is.”

The tailor shrugged. “Not at this moment. I have a suspicion that she hopped onto the nearest transport and left, but no proof, of course.”

“And why would she do that?!” Julian snapped, becoming irritated at the entire situation. Garak, however, didn’t seem surprised.

“Probably because she recognized me, knew that I suspected her, and panicked.” He turned and sat back down at his desk. “I was hoping she would lead us to one of her other companions, but I may have been too obvious and spooked her. Perhaps the Constable will have more luck.”

“Garak…” Julian leaned over the desk, palms on the surface, holding himself up. “You should have told Odo in the first place.” The blue eyes glanced up at him with an irritated look before he returned to his work with a bolt of silk. “Garak!”

“What do you want me to say?” The tailor threw the fabric back onto the desk. “I’ve harmed no one.”

“And I want it to stay that way.” Julian stared hard at him. “I don’t want you doing this alone. If you want to get to the bottom of this, you work with Odo, and, preferably, me! I certainly don’t want to hear that you’ve gone and done something foolish and gotten yourself arrested, or worse, killed! Let Odo take care of it.”

Garak let out a slow breath. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid!”

The Cardassian rolled his eyes. “I assure you, whatever I decide to do, it will be intelligent and well thought out, Julian.”

“You know what I meant!” Bashir flexed his hands on the desk in anger. “Promise me you won’t go after any suspects alone! And promise me that you’ll let security handle them!”

Garak eyed him defiantly, but after a moment, nodded. “Very well. I will do my best.”

Julian was about to press him for a real promise, but decided that this was likely the closest he was going to get. He nodded once. “Good.” He only wished that he could trust the man enough to believe him. He took his seat and tried to return to his stitching, but the whole situation gnawed at him. It was bad enough that he had to be worried about people attacking him in dark corridors, but he was starting to get severe emotional whiplash with his feelings toward Garak. One moment, they would be having a grand old flirt, and the next, he wanted to throttle the Cardassian.

The thread he was using tangled into a knot, and he cursed in frustration. This was nothing like surgery! He threw the scrap fabric onto Garak’s desk and sighed. The tailor watched him for a moment before asking, “Are you quite all right?”

Julian rubbed his eyes and held his head in his hands. “I’m just… tired.” He grumbled. “It’s been a long couple days, and I may still be slightly hung over.” He then leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. His stomach suddenly made a most embarrassing sound.

Garak smiled. “It seems you may be hungry as well.” He stood. “At least one of those things we can take care of now. We’ll be a few minutes early, but I do believe Ziyal will be expecting us in the Replimat shortly.”

Julian nodded and stood as well. Food sounded like a fabulous idea, and some time with Ziyal might do him some good. Garak closed up shop and they headed to the Replimat.


	7. Interlude: Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I'm having trouble with the next bit, so this will have to do.

Ziyal had been thrilled when she heard Julian was staying, and even Garak seemed surprised at the amount of enthusiasm she’d shown when she heard they were both working at the shop now. “Now we can all eat together every day without being interrupted by medical emergencies!”

The amount of optimism she carried around with her was very nearly contagious, and Julian found himself feeling much better about everything only a few minutes into the lunch. Even Garak seemed more at ease with her around; his smiles looked more genuine, and he seemed less closed off. The three of them chatted like they’d all been friends for years, and Julian couldn’t help but wish that had actually been the case.

The only part that threw him off was when Ziyal mentioned she’d just finished reading The Never-Ending Sacrifice, and he’d let out a sarcastic laugh, asking if Garak was really trying to make her read it. She stared at him with confusion before saying, “But, Julian, _you’re_ the one who suggested I read it.”

The awkward silence that followed was nearly palpable. Ziyal lowered her eyes and apologized quickly. “I-I mean… _HE_ suggested I read it… He said it would help me understand both Garak and my father better.”

Of course _HE_ had. Julian forced a smile. “Well…” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling terrible that he had made her guilty. “It wasn’t that bad a suggestion, I suppose.” He pushed some of the food on his plate around with a fork. “You are half Cardassian, after all, and though I didn’t care much for the repetitiveness of it all, it does give a good insight into life on Cardassia, even if it is a bit idealized.” He glanced over at Garak, who was watching him with an amused smirk. Julian leaned in closer to Ziyal and said in a very loud whisper, “Don’t tell Garak I said so, but I found it terribly dull.”

Ziyal giggled, while the tailor rolled his eyes at them.”Perhaps you simply haven’t read the proper version of it.” Garak said. “Now that I know about your spectacularly upgraded brainpower, I expect you to re-read the novel in the original Kardasi.”

“But Garak, I don’t--“

But the tailor held up a hand. “If you continue to work for me, I think I will require that you learn the language.”

“You can’t make someone learn a new language for a job if the job itself doesn’t require it, Garak.”

“Oh?” He stared at Julian in mock surprise. “You mean I’ll have to write my notes in Federation Standard from now on? That hardly seems fair.”

“So, I’ll have to change the way I write notes?” Julian made a show of being offended. “If I have to learn Kardasi to read your writing, I think you should have to learn to read mine.”

Garak gave him a triumphant smile. “But I already know how to read Federation Standard, my dear. And I sincerely doubt it will be overly difficult for your brilliant mind to learn one new language.”

Realizing he was going to lose this battle, Julian waved the white flag early. “All right. I’ll learn it, but I make no promises to reading that book again once I have.”

Ziyal smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s not that bad.” She leaned in just as Julian had earlier and whispered, “Though it is a little long, I’ll admit.”

“I’m surrounded by the uncultured!” Garak gestured to the heavens with exasperation as the other two had a good long laugh.


	8. The Second

Julian leaned back in his chair staring at the data rod that he twirled in his fingers. He’d just received it from Felix, and wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do with it now. The holosuite program on the rod was one of his favorite characters to play: Julian Bashir, Secret Agent… but this program had been specially made to be played with multiple people. He’d presented the design to Felix after the incident where his friends had gotten caught in the game, and Felix had been thrilled with the idea. It had, however, taken the man an incredibly long time to get it done. Now, Julian wasn’t an expert of any kind when it came to programming holosuite scenarios, but with a genius like Felix on the job, he could only imagine what the program turned out to be if it had taken him this long. Felix was as enthusiastic with his programming as Julian had been with his medical research.

He looked down at the PADD that had accompanied his commissioned program, and re-read the letter from the programmer with, not sympathy or pity, but a teasing joke that now Julian had more time on his hands, Felix expected another challenge, and even offered to have the former doctor come join him in making his programs.

He smiled. Seemed everyone wanted him to work for them. It was good to know, at least, that not everyone wanted to dress up in ridiculous outfits and beat him in a deserted corridor.

He sobered quickly at that thought.

Odo had updated them the next day about what was found in that room, and the answer was: not much. They’d found some DNA traces that matched the woman, some evidence that the replicator had been used recently, and a few coded transmissions that they were working on decoding, but that was all. He’d also discovered someone of the woman’s description boarding a Tarkalean freighter the day of her resignation, but all efforts to contact the freighter have been unsuccessful. And, when Julian tried to press for more information or offered his help, he was informed, somewhat forcefully, that they were working on it, and to remember that he was no longer part of the Senior Staff or Starfleet at all, and therefore, no longer had security clearance.

It frustrated him to no end how little say he had in the workings of the station now.

This whole situation was making him paranoid. Every overlarge being was a possible Mr. Brick Wall, and every dark blonde could be the one with the baton. The latter had been such an average size and shape for a humanoid that 37.8% of the humanoids on the station fit the bill. And he couldn’t just narrow it down to just the males either, since there were a few females who could, conceivably, fall within the descriptive parameters. He found himself looking suspiciously at anyone with dark blonde hair who passed by him.

Apparently, looking into who, on the station, might have had a grandfather at Regula I didn’t really help either. Odo made mention that he couldn’t find anything in his officer’s files, and Starfleet was reluctant to give that kind of information to a Changeling without good reason.

He sighed.

Maybe he _did_ need the program right now; something to keep his mind off of what was going on. But that didn’t help the fact that the game was meant to be played with more than one person. Now, it was possible to play alone, according to Felix’s PADD, but it wouldn’t have quite the same effect, and he didn’t want to ask his friends to join him just yet. Actually, that wasn’t true. There was _one_ person he wanted to ask, he just wasn’t sure the man would agree to it. After all, the last time they’d played, Julian had shot him.

But Garak didn’t seem to mind that, did he? It was Julian who minded. This time, though, the safeties would be on, and with luck, they wouldn’t have outside forces making it a life or death situation. But one never knew with Garak involved.

He still wasn’t sure where he stood with the man. He’d tried to bring up the subject twice since the first day, and both times, Garak skillfully deflected the inquiry and effectively changed the subject. It was just like the time with the implant; like he wanted to pretend it had never happened, and it was infuriating. But, as frustrating as it was, it made sense. Garak was never one for the direct approach, so maybe this program would be an opportunity to weedle some information out of him. And even if he couldn’t, it was bound to be fun regardless.

He smiled. He’d better get to work.

* * *

 

“Garak,” Julian began casually enough sometime into the second half of their work day. The Cardassian paused mid-measure and glanced up at him, waiting. Julian didn’t look over, instead keeping his attention on the small hole in the vest he was mending. “I’ve just received a new program from Felix, and was wondering if you’d like to try it out with me.” There. Simple request. Don’t look overly eager for the answer.

Garak tilted his head slightly, and then turned back to his measuring. “Another one of your spy adventures, I suppose?”

“It is.” Julian gave him a sidelong glance. “Care to join me?”

He shot the human a look of mild irritation. “I don’t relish the idea of being dragged along an adventure, starring you, with myself as an observer, only to be shot at again.”

“Ah, but you won’t have to.” Julian set the hand-held sewing device down on the desk and pulled out Felix’s PADD, passing it over to his friend. “It’s meant to be played with multiple people. You’ll actually have an official part.” He grinned, adding, “Now that you’re invited this time.” Garak ignored the jab and took the PADD, looking it over. “I thought that you could play as Nigel Dunlap, a retired agent brought back into service for this mission.”

The Cardassian looked suddenly amused. “An old, ex-spy? Possibly to act as mentor to your character?” His mouth twitched upwards. “How unique.”

“It’s a bit of a stretch, I admit,” Julian grinned, “but I think if you try very hard, you can pull it off.”

Before the other man could reply, they were visited in the shop by a young Bolian woman that Julian recognized as a waitress at the strange end-of-the-universe themed restaurant on the other side of the Promenade. He’d gone once with Dax, and though the entertainment had been amusing, the food itself left much to be desired.

He glanced back at Garak who, without looking up from the PADD, flicked his hand towards him in a gesture meaning Julian should take care of it. Putting on his calming doctor smile which was now repurposed as his customer service smile, he left Garak to his reading, and helped the woman who had only come to pick up an order. Julian retrieved the dress from the back room, took the payment, and had her on her way in no time.  

He sighed inwardly. He wasn’t meant to work retail.

When Julian returned to his work on the vest, Garak had already abandoned the PADD, and was now pinning together what he had measured and cut. “Well?”

“Well what?”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Day off tomorrow? Holosuite? Grand adventure? Are you in?”

Garak’s eyes flicked to Julian and back. “I suppose.” He shrugged seeming reluctant. “If I must.”

“Well, I won’t make you if you don’t want to, Garak.” Julian made a show of pouting though. “I just thought we could do something together outside of work and fighting for our lives or freedom. We haven’t in some time.”

“We have lunch, Julian.”

“Sure, with Ziyal.”

This time when the blue eyes moved to him, they stayed. “You mean to say, you wish to do this program with only you and I?”

“Well… yes.”

“Even though it allows for five players and your other friends might be far more likely to attend?”

Julian shrugged, still attempting to act nonchalant about it. “Well, Miles and I have our own holosuite programs that we do, Odo hasn’t really shown any interest in joining, and Jadzia, while she would certainly be up for it… I just thought it might be fun to have it be just you and I.” He turned back to the vest he’d been working on. “But I suppose, if you’re afraid of getting shot at again, or don’t think we’d be able to win, then I’ll just have to find someone else more capable.”

He swore the Cardassian hissed, but it was almost too quiet for even his hearing to be certain. He tried to hide his smile, and continued to not look at the other man. The silence lingered long enough, though, to make Julian start doubting himself. Hopefully, he hadn’t actually offended him. Now that he was actually trying for it, the he found argumentative flirting very difficult. Why was it so easy when he wasn’t thinking about it?

He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, Garak said, “I think Nigel Dunlap will be more than capable to ensure you don’t bumble through your mission too badly.”

Julian grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll make the arrangements with Quark tonight.”

* * *

 

Stopping by the bar after his work day was over, Julian took care of setting up an appointment in the holosuite for the following day rather easily. He even allowed Quark to convince him to have a drink.

While he sat at the bar drinking his synthale, he watched the crowd, letting his mind drift.

He was going to be alone with Garak in a non-work environment. He started thinking up scenarios and one-liners he could use to steer conversations towards their relationship-not-a-relationship, but make them vague enough that they could be just dismissed as being in the game. Garak would appreciate the subtlety at least.

There was a loud shout of “DABO!” from over at the tables, and he turned to watch for a while, until Leeta spotted him and excused herself, giving him a smile. He smiled back, glad that she, too, didn’t seem to hate him.

“Julian!” She threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a warm hug. He patted her shoulder, unsure of where this was going just yet, and replied with a neutral, “Hello, Leeta.” He was very careful not to look at what her Dabo outfit revealed to the public.

When she pulled away, her eyes were watery, but she kept a smile. “I’m so sorry for what happened!” She said with all sincerity, “You’re the best doctor, and no one should have the right to take that from you!”

He shrugged, trying not to let the bitterness show in his voice. “Well, unfortunately, being the _best_ doctor is precisely why they took it away from me.” He took another drink from his glass, suddenly trying to decide if he should switch to real alcohol. Best not. He wasn’t planning on getting drunk tonight, and if he started one, he was very likely to not stop there.

She looked him over, eyes overly sympathetic, and soon seemed to make up her mind about something. “Wait right here.” Before he could respond, she dashed off behind the bar and into a back room. When she returned, she carried a small bag, and dropped it on the counter next to Julian. He eyed it for a moment before raising an eyebrow at her, but she only motioned for him to look inside.

Without taking time to wonder what it was, he hooked his finger on the side and pulled it towards him, peering in. He let out an excited gasp when he spotted two small brown ears, and snapped his attention back to Leeta, his mouth hanging open.

“I thought you could use a little comfort after all that’s happened.” She smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

He pulled her into a hug, a genuine one this time, and whispered, “Thank you.” Then, after pulling away, he grabbed the small, well-worn stuffed bear from its bag, and gave him a squeeze, before gently putting him back.

“Hey!” Quark was at their side in an instant, giving Leeta a stern look. “No unscheduled breaks.” The eyes then roamed to the bag. “You’re not giving product away are you?”

Julian’s hand clamped down on the bag before the Ferengi could see what was inside. He gave the bartender a frown. “That is mine, and Leeta was only returning it to me after having borrowed it. And,” he stood, “she was trying to convince me to play a little dabo, weren’t you?”

She nodded, her mane of hair bobbing.

“I think you’ve convinced me, my dear.” He held out his elbow and she took it, melting into him as only a dabo girl could. He managed to keep a straight face, and managed not to grimace at the thought of how Rom might feel if he saw them. “Just one game, though,” Julian continued, turning towards the tables and allowing her to lead him. “Unless I start winning, of course.”

Quark eyed them suspiciously, but seemed to decide against pushing the matter once he saw Julian put some money down and the wheel was spun.

To thank Leeta for her kindness, and to ensure that Quark didn’t take anything out on her, he played more than one game, winning a few times, and losing a few. He’d intended on playing only one more game when he noticed someone behind the line of players surrounding the table staring at him; A Nausicaan, even bigger and broader than the usual variety. Like a brick wall.

Alarm bells went off in his mind, but there wasn’t much he could do at this point without drawing attention to himself. Keeping the Nausicaan visible in his peripheral, he turned his attention back to the dabo table, only to see it light up as he won again. He grabbed for his winnings, intending to get to Quark and have him call for Odo, but before he could, the Nausicaan shoved through the line of players and pointed at him, shouting, “Cheat!”

The entire bar froze, except Quark, who seemed to have the ability to appear out of nowhere. The Ferengi cast his gaze between the two of them. “What’s this?”

Julian frowned. “This man accused me of cheating.”

“Well, are you?” He eyed the bag with Kukalaka.

“What? No!”

“Hoo-man think he’s so smart.” The Nausicaan moved towards the Ferengi and ex-doctor as the patrons all seemed to find another place to be. “What’s in the bag, hoo-man?”

Completely offended now, Julian opened the bag and pulled out the bear, and said forcefully, “There. Are you happy? It’s a stuffed animal. A toy. Hardly something to allow me to cheat at dabo.” Then, quickly, and under his breath, he mumbled, “Quark, you want to call security now.”

The Nausicaan moved even closer. “Smart hoo-man think he trick us. Have device to calculate odds.”

“Now, now, gentleman,” the Ferengi began, with an appeasing smile, and backed up to the bar. “I’m sure we can settle this over a drink.” Julian saw the hands work under the bar, likely pressing some sort of silent alarm. Good.

Julian took a step back, making certain he stayed out of the Nausicaan’s reach. He wasn’t going to allow Kukalaka to be maimed, and he certainly didn’t want to chance getting caught by the giant grip himself. He handed the bear to Leeta. “Take him and go.” She nodded quickly, running off behind the bar. Quark eyed her suspiciously, but it didn’t matter just now. “If you have proof I’ve cheated, please, enlighten us, otherwise, I suggest you leave.”

The giant humanoid laughed, very like the mountain that attacked him had. “Hoo-man’s mind is device to cheat. Hoo-man think he smarter than other hoo-mans. Smarter than all races.”

“Now, hold on…” Julian could feel the anger building. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

“Wait,” Quark’s voice sounded suddenly unsure, “can you do that, Doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor!” Julian snapped. “And yes, theoretically, I could calculate the odds, but as you could see, I lost at least twice, so obviously I wasn’t.”

“Unless you were doing that to throw off suspicion.” He wasn’t sure if the Ferengi looked more offended or impressed.

“Quark. Not the time…” Julian took another step back as the Nausicaan moved forward.

“Hoo-man think he better than us.” The Nausicaan grabbed a small table and threw it at Julian, who only just managed to dodge out of the way as it crashed into the bar, shattering bottles and just missing Quark, who decided he’d had enough and was running for the door. “Think he fight better. But hoo-man only have friends that help him.”

Well, that was pretty implicating. If this Nausicaan _wasn’t_ one of the people who attacked him, he would subject himself to re-reading The Never-Ending Sacrifice.

“Look, let’s talk this over.”

The Nausicaan laughed again. “Always talk. Hoo-man is coward. Where is Cardassian friend, hoo-man?”

Yes, most definitely the same.

A group of five security personnel, three Bajoran, two Starfleet, followed by Odo arrived on the scene, weapons drawn and pointed at the two, who appeared to be the only ones left in the lower area of the bar.

“What’s going on here?” The Constable strode in, arms crossed, looking as stern as ever.

“The brute is trashing my bar, that’s what!” Quark popped up behind the Changeling, pointing at the Nausicaan.

“He accused me of cheating.” Julian supplied, “And when I denied it, he started throwing things, accusing me of being too smart, and wondering where my _Cardassian friend_ was.” He threw the man a meaningful look, hoping he understood.

Odo grunted. “I’m afraid we don’t allow destruction of property around here.” He addressed the Nausicaan. “I suggest you come with us, quietly.”

Quark wrinkled his already wrinkly nose. “And what about my bar?”

The Constable sighed. “I’m certain we can come to some sort of agreement…”

With a loud growl, the Nausicaan launched himself at Julian, who managed to side-step out of the way. The mountain of a man turned suddenly, grabbing at him, but this time, he wasn’t quite quick enough, and the huge hands grabbed a hold of his shirt, pulling him close. Julian took a hard blow to the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. As he regained his composure, one of the Bajoran security woman threw a particularly well-aimed blow to the Nausicaan’s arm, and the grip on Julian faltered. Julian wrenched himself away, shoving the ball of his palm into the monster’s throat, and then thrust his foot into the man’s side.

Now out of immediate danger while the Nausicaan was recovering from the blows, Julian ducked down and dove behind the dabo table. He chanced a look, and saw three of the security team now wrestling with the large alien, who was throwing them off like they were nothing. There was a phaser shot, but it missed, shattering a bottle on top of a nearby table. Quark was yelling about property damage, while Julian had lost sight of Odo.

Ah, no, there he was. The Constable was gaining mass as he approached the Nausicaan, until they were roughly the same size. The Nausicaan threw a punch, but the fist got stuck in Odo’s ‘flesh,’ and trapped him there. Odo then grabbed the other arm, and held it in place. “You are under arrest for assault and--“

“And destroying my bar!”

Odo let out a gruff sigh. “Quark.”

The two Starfleet security officers rushed to help Odo, one carrying binders, but the Nausicaan was still struggling. The three of them wrestled the man down, but he suddenly jerked to the side, eyes glazing over as he twitched and trembled.

“No!” Julian ran to the group. Drool dripped from the creature’s mouth, and the hands began to spasm. “No, damnit!”

The woman holding the binders turned to him, looking confused. “What?”

“Poisoned.” Odo answered for him, grimly, relaxing his grip.

“No, no, no… We can stop this!” Julian said desperately. “Get me a med kit! 20 cc’s of--“

“Mr. Bashir, it’s too late.” This time, it was the second security person, a human male (brown hair, not blonde), who spoke. He was kneeling next to the Nausicaan as Odo reverted to his usual humanoid form. The Nausicaan made two more twitches, and then lay still.

No. That couldn’t be it. They had a lead! They could have gotten information on the third person! He glanced wildly around, taking in every feature of the security team, but though two of them had the right size and shape, neither had blonde hair. Assuming the third hadn’t changed their hair color… Or maybe they were in the crowd? He scanned anyone he could spot: three blondes, none of them fitting the dimensions of his attacker.

He turned back to the Nausicaan. How had he been poisoned? Dart? Needle? Had one of the two security people done it? Had the Nausicaan done it to himself? What was the poison? Could it be identified?

“Odo, I want an autopsy.” He said firmly. “If we get him to the Infirmary, I can--“

“Bashir.” Odo cut him off. “ _You_ won’t be doing anything except coming with me.”

“But it was him!” Julian didn’t care what anyone thought of him at the moment. “Nausicaans aren’t known for committing suicide! Someone poisoned him! If I can find out what the poison was, maybe we could--“

Odo’s hand clamped down on Julian’s shoulder, putting a bit more force into it than necessary. “While that may be true, remember, you are barred from doing things like autopsies. We have highly capable doctors who can do the task just as well.”

Julian opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. He was right. There was no way anyone was going to allow him to do it. He let his anger and bitterness to settle in his gut as he fumed. He allowed Odo to pull him to his feet, and followed the man back to his office while the body was taken care of. Once they were alone, the Constable let out a long sigh.

“Computer: Locate Mister Garak.”

Julian raised an eyebrow as the computer answered, <<Garak is currently located in Garak’s Clothiers.>>

“Mr. Bashir, did you see him in the crowd at all?”

Julian frowned. “No. Do you think he poisoned the Nausicaan?”

Odo’s expression remained neutral. “Enough time has elapsed for him to get from Quark’s Bar and back to his shop.”

“Well, he didn’t.” Julian felt himself getting offended on the Cardassian’s behalf. “Even if he wanted him dead, he would at least wait until we could get information out of him about the third person.” He paused, wanting to add, ‘And he promised me,’ but knew how that would sound to the Changeling. Odo wouldn’t trust a promise from Garak, and Julian knew he shouldn’t either, and yet, there he was, thinking it.

Odo simply nodded. “I assure you, Bashir, we will get to the bottom of this.”

Julian nodded, but didn’t have his heart in it. He was tired and furious and bitter and just sick of it all. This whole situation was idiotic. Just days ago, he was being honored for his medical accomplishments, and now he was being punished for them.

Odo questioned him for a few minutes about what had happened, and Julian gave his story while notes were taken. When the Constable let him go, he stormed off towards Garak’s shop, angrily pressing the security code to let himself in, and wishing desperately for an old manual door that he could slam. The electronic sliding ones just didn’t satisfy his mood.

When he entered, Garak was sitting at his work table, stitching, and looked up, face turning to confusion with a hint of amusement. He looked back down to his work, saying casually, “Your friend, Leeta, dropped off a package for you.” He motioned to his right, and there was Kukalaka, safe and sound. This only eased his annoyance by 3.6%.

He turned back to the Cardassian. “We had him!” He snapped angrily, pulling the blue eyes back to focus on him, questioningly. “We had the second person! The mountain! A Nausicaan! And we were going to arrest him, and then he _died_! Killed! POISONED. And now he have nothing!” He ran a hand through his hair, sliding it down to rub his neck, shaking his head. “Nothing!”

Garak slowly set down what he was working on, and stood, walking over to Julian. He stopped just outside of his personal space, and looked the man over, all seriousness. “If the man was a Nausicaan, then he was likely hired. If he is dead, then we can request financial records, and see who may have paid him. Julian, sit.”

Julian felt a hand on his back, gently guiding him to a chair, and he let it happen. He took his seat, letting some of his anger out in a puff of air, as he bent over, burying his face in his hands. “We were so close…”

“Julian,” the human looked up at the Cardassian kneeling next to him, locking hazel eyes with blue. “Do we know what kind of poison was used?”

“No.” Julian frowned bitterly, leaning back in the chair. “And I am not allowed to perform an autopsy.”

Garak nodded. “Then let us hope that Odo is smart enough to request one of the Bajoran doctors rather than Starfleet.”

Julian eyed him a while, then blurted out, “It wasn’t you, was it?”

The eye ridges twitched upwards. “Me? A plain, simple tailo--“

“Damnit, Garak, was it you or not?!”

The Cardassian’s expression changed rapidly from surprise, to anger, and then finally to a gentle sympathy. “No, Julian. I have been here.”

The human nodded. “Let’s pretend I believe you,” Julian was fairly certain that if he implied that he did actually believe him, he would only be disappointed. “What do we do now?”

“Now…” Garak paused, standing and walking out of view. When he returned, a stuffed bear was thrust into Julian’s arms. “Now, I believe you should take this to your quarters. I will accompany you, and then you will sleep. And tomorrow, we will attempt to save the Queen.”

Julian smiled. Even if they didn’t always see eye-to-eye… even if their relationship never took the next step, the man was a good friend.

Garak set the security and closed down the shop for the night, and they two made it to Julian’s quarters without incident. Before he entered, though, Julian turned to Garak. “What are your plans for this evening?”

The Cardassian tilted his head as though amused at the question. “I plan to speak with Odo, and then there is a dress I need to finish that Lt. Sheila McGrath requested. If I am to take some time off tomorrow to adventure with you, then I will need to get a head start on it tonight.”

Julian forced a smile. Deflected again. Ah well. “See you tomorrow, then.”

Garak smiled; the smile that made Julian’s insides twist into a knot. “Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three. Full. Rewrites. Three rewrites, two minor revisions, and a smattering of changes here and there. I am so done with this chapter. At least it's something I'm fairly happy with now, and I have most of the next bit done already. I do apologize if this chapter isn't quite up to the rest of them.


	9. The Holosuite is Not Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look! An update! Sorry it took so long. I had a small bout of writer's block.
> 
> Oh, and if you're familiar with your episodes, you'll recognise some of the dialogue in the middle.

Julian Bashir, Secret Agent glanced down at his wristwatch, displaying a bright green-on-black digital map of the compound. “Well,” He whispered, turning to the Cardassian close behind him, “If our intelligence is correct, Falcon’s girl should be behind this door. Once we convince her to join our cause, we can find out where they’ve taken Lady Wantsomore.”

Garak, aka Nigel Dunlap, formerly retired agent, gave him a skeptical look. “Really, Julian, what makes you think she’d betray her employer so easily?”

Julian flashed him a smile. “Well, it’s that sort of program, I suppose. Though, I’m certain one of us will be able to charm her enough to switch sides. If you don’t want to do it…” He gestured with both hands, indicating he was quite capable. He wasn’t sure he was trying to convince himself that he was willing to seduce the holographic woman because she was beautiful and pretty much everything he normally fell for, or because it had the possibility of making Garak jealous. Perhaps both. After all, she didn’t stop being beautiful just because Julian had turned his attentions to the Cardassian.

Garak shook his head and said wryly, “How noble of you to volunteer.”

“The things I sacrifice for the greater good.” Julian chuckled, pulling a pen from his jacket’s chest pocket, and pulled it apart, revealing a device meant to crack an electronic lock. Garak raised an eye-ridge.

“What are you planning to do with that?”

“Well, there’s a lock here.” He indicated the keypad next to the door. “We have to get in somehow.” He was about to place the small cylindrical object in the slot next to the number pad, but the grey scaled hand stopped him. Julian glanced over at him with a questioning look.

“My dear,” he began, almost condescending, “you rely far too much on technology. Why, in my days of espionage, we didn’t have all your fancy gadgets, and had to get by with our brainpower alone.”

Julian pressed his lips together, and tried very hard not to roll his eyes. The tailor had certainly jumped into his part head first, hadn’t he? He pulled the device back and waved at the keypad, clearly indicating for the older spy to demonstrate his skills.

Garak gave a polite nod of thanks and moved over to the numbered buttons, studying them carefully. After a moment, he pressed five of them, and the door responded immediately with a click, as it unlocked.

Julian’s jaw dropped. “How did you--?” He replayed what he had seen in his mind, but even with his enhanced memory and analytical skills, he couldn’t quite figure out what the Cardassian had seen there in order to get the code in one try. He frowned. “You’re cheating somehow.”

But the smug smile on that grey face didn’t falter. “Am I?” He pulled open the door, and waved Julian through. “Perhaps you can explain it to me.”

Julian narrowed his eyes at him, but decided to save his theories for later. For now, there was a gorgeous woman for him to save.

And there she was; blonde, beautiful, and wearing a blue cocktail dress that only barely covered up her bosom enough to be considered appropriate. She looked over at him and gasped.

“Mister Bashir!” She almost swooned. Yes, this was certainly that kind of program.

He took a step nearer, hand dipping into his jacket to grab his gun as he scanned the room for anyone else, just in case. “Nadia, I presume?” He let his eyelids droop, giving her his best smolder. “I believe you have information we need.”

“Mister Bashir!” She repeated, now sounding a bit desperate. “You must understand, I had no choice. Falcon, he--“ She stopped, her gaze suddenly focusing on something behind him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and her eyes widened as though frightened.

Julian spun around, gun at the ready, but it was only Garak, his own weapon in hand, looking a bit bewildered himself. Julian turned back to Nadia, but she had taken a few steps back. Strange. “We won’t harm you.” He began gently. “We only want the information. Give us that, and I will personally guarantee you a pardon from the British government for what you’ve done.”

She shook her head, mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish before she managed to mutter, “I-I wasn’t going to betray you.”

“What?”

He had little time to process the unusual turn the conversation had taken before cool, scaled fingers closed around his neck and the sharp jab of a gun barrel dug into his back.

Of course. It all made sense now. The door code, her reaction, the fact that they hadn’t seen Falcon at all yet in this scenario…

“Oh, Mister Bashir, you _have_ always been the overly trusting sort…” Garak’s breath was hot on his ear. “You didn’t think the game would be that easy, did you?”

His heart fluttered and his pulse raced. This was turning out to be far more exciting than he’d expected. But to keep up the persona, he asked bitterly, “What did you do with the real Nigel Dunlap?”

The Cardassian tsked in his ear. “Poor retired Nigel was disposed of before you even got wind of your assignment.”

The rough grip on his neck relaxed only slightly, gently brushing the skin, sending chills down Julian’s spine. It was intoxicating. Felix couldn’t have possibly written this in; This was all Garak.

“Where’s your trademark eye-patch, Falcon?” He asked, attempting to keep his voice calm and to keep the man talking while his mind rearranged how-things-were. If his villain was no longer the computer, he would have to rethink the entire scenario. And that was more exciting that he cared to admit just now.

“Oh, you’d be surprised what a glass eye and some facial reconstruction surgery can do for someone.”

Oh, yes, he had thought this out well. Julian wondered briefly if Garak had been able to alter the program, or if Felix had made it this flexible. He hadn’t actually seen the tailor choose his character when they started, and sort of assumed he’d pick Nigel, as they had discussed. How foolish that assumption had been.

The hand moved from his neck, over his shoulder, and pulled the arm holding his weapon back behind him. “Drop the gun, Mister Bashir, or I shall be forced to shoot you. And wouldn’t that be a shame?”

Julian complied, as he frantically tried to figure a way out of this. Neither of them being a hologram made any safeties in place null and void when it came to actually fighting each other hand to hand, and any gadgets he’d been given for the mission had been done right in front of Garak, so there was no surprising him that way. Indeed, the man was already relieving him of his watch and cufflinks. Perhaps another tactic need be employed then.

He turned around to face Falcon, who let him go with a smug smile. “I suppose you think you’ve won?”

“Oh, I don’t presume to think that you’ve given up just yet, Mister Bashir.” Garak practically slithered closer until they were nose-to-nose, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “But you must admit, you are in a rather…” The gun in his hand pressed against Julian’s chest, and then slid downward, causing the human to squirm, the heat rising in his nether regions. “vulnerable position.”

The gruff clearing of a throat to their left caused the two of them to jump apart, heads snapping to the door they had entered in. Odo stood in the entryway looking incredibly unsure about what he stumbled upon. “I’m… sorry to interrupt…”

“Odo!” Julian greeted just a little too loudly. “Yes, um, come… Come in! Ah, computer: Freeze program.” The computerized beep sounded and the woman who had been watching the exchange froze in place. He smiled at the Constable. “To what do we owe this visit? Anything new about the investigation?”

Odo frowned for a moment, as though not quite sure what investigation he was referring to, then understanding came, and he shook his head. “Not really… We did find that Lara Rinn had deposited a considerable sum into the Nausicaan’s account, giving us a connection between the two, but no word on the third person… Actually… I’ve had something else come up.” He glanced around at the room. “I had… a few questions for you, if you don’t mind, Mister Bashir?”

Suddenly concerned, Julian gave Garak a glance, and the Cardassian nodded, taking a few steps back. Odo watched before turning back to Bashir. “Quite the program you have here…” His eyes drifted to the woman, Nadia. “Is she with you?”

Julian fought back a scowl. “Actually, I’m fairly certain she’s Garak’s at the moment.” He looked over at the tailor, who was idly playing with a control panel on the far wall, very obviously pretending he wasn’t interested in their conversation. Julian knew Cardassian hearing wasn’t as acute as a human’s, but he wasn’t certain that the man was out of range to listen in on them. He hoped Odo didn’t mind him eavesdropping. “I’m fairly confident I can sway her given the chance, though.” He looked back to the Constable, but Odo was still staring at Nadia. “But you didn’t come here to talk to me about women…” He laughed, but the strangely smooth face staring back at him didn’t change. Suddenly, he doubted the certainty of his comment. “Did you?”

Odo looked unexpectedly… sheepish. If he were human, Julian was certain he would be blushing. He smiled, recalling a conversation he’d had with O’brien that morning. “Ahhh… this is about ‘Bedroom Eyes,’ isn’t it?”

The Security Chief looked immediately horrified. “Who told you about her?! Kira?”

Julian grinned. “Nope.”

“Dax!” Odo scowled as though he’d known all along. But Julian’s amused smile only grew. Best to not torture him any more than necessary, though.

“Actually, it was Miles.” Although, he knew that Miles had heard it from Dax, and she had likely heard it from Kira, but he wasn’t about to divulge all of that. The Constable grumbled, and the former doctor felt for him. “If people are talking, it’s only because they care.” He assured the man. “You put on a good front, but anyone who really knows you can tell that you’re lonely. If you’re interested in this woman, you have to let her know.”

Odo opened his mouth once, but hesitated, closing it again, and looking away. “I… can’t.”

It was certainly strange to see the Constable so unsure of himself. “Why not?”

There was a long pause before Odo answered. “What if I…” His voice faltered, but he tried again, “What if she…”

“Rejects you?” Julian supplied, and the immediate sag of the Constable’s shoulders confirmed his guess. Julian took in a breath. “She might.” Odo was never one for tiptoeing around an issue. If he came to Julian for help, Julian would give it, but blunt was the way to go. “But you can’t go through life trying to avoid getting a broken heart. If you do, it’ll break from loneliness anyway.  So, you might as well take a chance.” Julian’s eyes drifted, almost against his will, to the Cardassian form on the far side of the room. Garak’s back was to them, but it was almost certain that he was listening. “If you don’t,” Julian forced himself to continue, prying his gaze away and back to the man he was supposed to be talking to. “she’ll move on, and you’ll never know what you might have had. And living with that is worse than having a broken heart, believe me.”

He’d had so many regrets himself over the years, mostly due to his resequencing. He was never able to let anyone close enough for fear they’d discover his secret. But Odo didn’t have that problem; If the person in question already knew he was a Changeling and didn’t care, the biggest hurdle was already over.

His eyes drifted again to Garak, but the man hadn’t moved from the last time he’d glanced his way.

Odo cleared his throat, bringing Julian’s attention back to him once more. “Well… thank you…” He lingered in silence for a moment as though uncertain what the proper social etiquette would be for this kind of conversation, and then nodded. “I should… go.” He made for the door, eager to escape, but Julian called for him before he reached it.

“Odo…” When the sunken eyes met his, Julian smiled. “She must be something special to catch your eye.”

The Constable’s gaze fell to the floor, but a smile played at his lips. “She is.”

This time, Julian didn’t stop him as he took his leave.

He stared at the door where Odo disappeared for a while, lost in his thoughts. It was nice that Odo had finally found someone, though Julian felt it might be better if he finally admitted his feelings for Nerys instead. Seemed it was completely obvious to everyone except the two of them… But, who was he to talk, really?

He turned back to Garak, still in the position he had left him. “Sorry about that.” He smiled. “Computer: resume program. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You were… explaining my position, I believe? Probably to tell me how hopeless escape is and such?”

There was a small movement in the Cardassian’s shoulders as a long sigh sounded from the man.

“Garak?”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

Julian hesitated. Was this part of the game, as Falcon… or was this Garak? Deciding to play it safe, he replied with a teasing tone, “Oh, not at all. Pretending to be Nigel Dunlap was a stroke of genius.” The Cardassian’s back was still to him, so he silently took a few steps towards his fallen gun. He glanced over at the woman, who was watching him, but he pressed his finger to his lips in a ‘hush’ motion, and winked at her. She smiled.

Garak let out another heavy sigh. “Computer: End program.”

The gun dissolved in front of him just as he’d reached it, followed by the woman, and then the room itself, leaving behind the cold metal and circuitry of the holosuite. Julian stood up to his full height, frowning.

“Garak, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t you think I know what you were doing?” He turned to give Bashir accusing look.

“What, the… gun? I was only taking advantage of your turned back. You don’t have to be such a sore loser.”

There was a long pause as Garak studied him, the eyes becoming hard. Then, slowly, he said, “Either you have perfected playing the idiot to an art form, or you truly are that oblivious.”

Julian frowned. “Then this is about what I said to Odo.”

Garak pursed his lips slightly. “Brilliant deduction.”

Julian ran a hand through his hair and let it pause at his neck, rubbing idly. “Garak, I hadn’t really directed any of that at you, but I did mean it. If you feel it struck something with you though, then maybe you should listen.” The blue eyes looked suddenly away. “Garak…” Julian sighed, “I think we need to talk this out.”

“Talk.” The tailor spat out the word with half a laugh as though that were the most foolish thing he’d said yet.

This was getting them nowhere. Why was he suddenly so angry? “Elim--”

Garak hissed, eyes darting back to Julian. “Why do you continue to call me that?”

Suddenly defensive and getting tired of the anger being thrown his way, Julian shot back, “Well… it’s your name, isn’t it?” Even if Julian had never told him about Tain admitting Garak’s first name to him years ago, the old Cardassian had called him Elim repeatedly in that Dominion prison camp. It wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore.

“It is.” The tailor replied warily, looking incredibly irritated. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”

Julian tilted his head, trying to figure out where this was headed, “Well… it does get your attention.”

“And if I called you Jules, would that get your attention?”

The voice was sharp now, and Julian winced at the childhood name. Had Garak overheard his parents when they were on the station? Had Jadzia or the Captain mentioned it? He supposed there were any number of ways the man could have discovered it, but now was not the time for that discussion. “Jules… is not who I am.” He replied, carefully holding back his annoyance.

“But it is your name.” Garak pushed. “The name your parents call you. The name you went by for nearly half your life.”

The correct buttons pressed, Julian finally snapped. “Fine, it’s _a_ name, but in no way is it _mine_! Jules is the boy that was born to my parents and never given a chance to grow into a man! Jules is the person I _should_ have become! Jules _died_ to make me into what I am now! To call me Jules is to pretend his death never occurred; to disrespect his sacrifice so that I could live in his body with his face and his voice and his memories, and never really be either of us; always pretending to be someone in-between!”

For a moment, Garak looked as though that was not the reaction he had expected at all, but he composed himself quickly, returning to the calm mask he’d had as default lately. He tilted his head to the side, as though debating with himself, then said softly, “Enabran Tain named me Elim.”

Julian deflated. Of course he had.

Thus making Elim a name that would constantly remind him of what he could never have. And now that Tain was dead, it also made the name the person he could never be.

Tain. That man was the worst thing to ever happen to Garak. Possibly the worst thing to happen to everyone he met. What kind of person would Garak have been if Tain hadn’t been there, watching and molding him into this walking contradiction of values and emotions?

Garak had said that sentiment is the greatest weakness, but he had offered his hand to a lost doctor, and a young abandoned half-Cardassian girl, daughter of his most hated enemy. He never told the truth because he doesn’t believe there is such a thing, and yet Julian saw him begging for the truth from the man who refused to admit it even with his dying breath. He flirted with Julian almost mercilessly, and yet now that Julian was willing, he’d put up a wall.

Julian sighed. “Computer: load Julian Bashir: location 001. Allow program to run, but pause story progression.”

The holosuite came back to life, as the Hong Kong apartment materialized around them. Garak eyed their surroundings, but did not object, though he did throw Julian a questioning, suspicious look. Julian took a seat on the couch, and patted the cushion next to him.

“Come on, Garak.” He said, adding a little more force to his voice than he normally would. “We’re going to talk. And I’d rather not do it in a cold metal room.”

The blue eyes narrowed on him. “What do you want from me, Julian?”

“Right now?” Julian leaned back on the couch, “just to talk. We’ve both been through a lot these last few months, and I don’t think either of us have gotten it out of our systems.”

“And if I don’t wish to talk?”

Julian sighed again. “Garak, keeping something like this pent up inside isn’t healthy. I have a few people I could talk to if needed, but you don’t. You have me… maybe Ziyal, but Ziyal wasn’t in that prison with you. I was. I saw what you went through. I saw what you let no one else see. So talk to me, Garak.”

“Still expecting me to spill my secrets, Doctor?”

Doctor again. Julian frowned. “No.” He rubbed his temple for a moment. “I don’t need your secrets. This isn’t about what I need. This is about you, and what _you_ need. You need to talk to someone. I’d like to hope you can talk to me.”

Garak stared at him warily. “Even if I choose to talk to you, what makes you think I’ll tell the truth?”

“Then lie to me!” Julian snapped. “But talk! Don’t deflect or ignore it.” He sighed again, staring up at the ceiling. “I was in that internment camp for thirty-seven days. I spent thirty of those days working with Tain in order to contact _you_. He was certain; One-hundred percent certain you would come to save him. At the time, I couldn’t understand why. He was the reason you were exiled. He was the reason that implant was in your head. What could he have on you that would make you want to help him after all he’s done to you?” He turned his gaze back to the Cardassian, who was all mask. “And then you came, and I found out why. I don’t know if you had intended for me to hear that confession when you allowed me to stay, or if you asked it of him after it was too late to make me leave, but I heard it.” He paused, trying to figure out what to say next. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this line of thought, but he couldn’t stop the words. “Talk to me, Garak.”

The tailor looked as if he was deciding to fight or flee. “What is it you want from me, Julian?”

Julian looked around the room, shrugging helplessly. “I don’t know… once I wanted all your secrets, I suppose; to unravel the mystery that was plain, simple Garak. But, after we became friends… real friends, all I looked forward to was our next lunch debate. Garak, is it so inconceivable that I just want to help you? That I enjoy your company? That I could just want you to be happy?”

Garak let out a disbelieving puff of laughter. “You want more of me than that, Julian.”

“All right,” he conceded, “maybe I do. Maybe I want to be a little selfish for once. Maybe I want to run my fingers over every inch of your body. Maybe I want you to kiss me with that silver tongue of yours until I can’t breathe. Maybe I want you in bed, trying to see, in every which way, just how compatible Humans and Cardassians really are… but…” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “But, that’s not what we were talking about. Garak, please sit down.”

The tailor looked ready to argue, but after a moment, he took a seat next to the human, leaving a respectable amount of distance between them. Julian frowned. When had Garak ever respected personal boundaries?

“Garak,” he started, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward, “what’s this all about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” The voice was hard, and the eyes refused to look at him. “You are the one who insisted on all this.”

“Because you’re pulling away!” Julian shook his head. “You ask me to stay! You saved my life! And now you’re more distant than ever! Ever since we got back from the Gamma Quadrant, you’ve been like this. It’s like you don’t want me to go, but you also don’t want to be near me. Why? Is it because of what I said? If you want to be just friends, then say so! Or… is it because you’re Cardassian and I’m Human? Fine. Or, or maybe that we’re both male? Is that a cultural taboo? Also fine! Or maybe you think I’m trying to mislead you or stab you in the back? Or maybe you’re just embarrassed or frightened by intimacy. All acceptable reasons, whether I agree with them or not, but _tell_ me what they are so we can actually discuss this like rational adults!” He took a few more deep breaths, flexing his hands in agitation. Garak only continued to stare, so he continued in a much calmer tone, “I understand that it’s not the Cardassian way to be so blunt, or, maybe it’s just _your_ way, but I am not Cardassian, and no matter how much more intelligent than the average human I may be, there are just going to be some cultural differences that I won’t understand unless you explain them to me. Maybe I won’t understand even then, but we can’t know that until we try. Talk to me, Garak! I know very well you’re capable of it. Sometimes I can’t even shut you up! Certainly, you can manage a few sentences explaining all of this!”

Julian could think of so much more to say, but felt that if he continued, he would never stop. He had to give Garak a chance to answer, whether he took it or not. So, he forced his mouth closed, balling his hands into fists, and stared back at the ex-spy, whose expression had softened somewhat while still remaining neutral. The blue eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before returning to Julian’s, and he said softly, “It’s safer this way.”

“Safer.” Julian repeated tonelessly. The different replies scrambled into his brain all at once, making it difficult to sift through and pick one that would fit. He could get angry, but that would only make things worse. He could be silent, hoping that Garak would expand upon his statement, but that would be like waiting for Quark to offer a refund. He closed his eyes and leaned back, stating his argument calmly. “I’m not a delicate flower, Garak. I am… I _was_ a Starfleet officer and a doctor. I can take care of myself. And anyway, people are starting to talk, what with me now working for you. They’re going to assume what they will, whether we do move forward or not. ” Julian looked over at the Cardassian, but the man was now staring into the distance, frowning.

“Garak…” Julian started to reach out, but stopped himself. A touch could send the Cardassian bolting for the door. They’d come so far already; he didn’t want to ruin it. The tailor’s eyes twitched his direction ever so slightly, indicating that he’d noticed the movement, but didn’t comment on it. Julian forced his hands back into his lap. “All right, how about this: I want a relationship with you, Elim Garak. I want, at the very least, to try. Do you want this too, yes or no?”

The grey head turned slightly, blue eyes looking him over. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me!” Julian pleaded. “Is there some sort of courting ritual? Do you not think humans and Cardassians are compatible? If it’s about your sparkling personality and how easy it is to get along with you, trust me, I already know that part. Just… _tell me_.”

He almost thought he saw the corner of the Cardassian’s mouth twitch upwards, but it was gone before he could be sure. Garak looked away again, focusing his gaze at the door on the far side of the room, and remained silent for a long time. Just when Julian was about to give up and started thinking of an appropriate way to leave, Garak spoke softly.

“Cardassians, particularly those over a certain age, do not enter into relationships lightly.” There was a pause, and a sigh. “I am no longer young, and have no desire to be your experimental partner while you decide where you belong in this universe now that you have been thrust from your chosen profession.”

Julian tilted his head. “You think I’m doing this just because I have no one else to turn to?”

Garak’s expression tightened as the next words came out bitterly, “The next scantily-clad woman to decide that your enhancements are more exotic than disgusting, and I dare say, you will be wooing them instead of trying to impress an old disgraced tailor.”

Julian frowned, trying hard not to sound as offended as he felt. “All right, I’m well aware of my reputation with women, but any one night stands were agreed upon at the start of the relationship, as was casual sex. Once in a real relationship, however, I have never cheated on them, nor have I left someone simply because another pretty face happened to walk by.” He could hear himself starting to get angry, and paused a moment to calm a bit. “Maybe you and I won’t work out, but it won’t be because some woman batted her eyes at me. So, if you want to put an end to my affections, you’ll have to come up with a better reason than that.”

This time, Julian did reach out, grabbing hold of the other man’s hand, and giving it an affectionate squeeze. Garak tensed up, staring at their hands. “Julian…” The voice was laced with a warning, but he was through playing it safe.

“Garak, I’m afraid you might be stuck with me.” He scooted closer until their thighs and shoulders touched, and chuckled inwardly at the feeling of awkwardness, almost like he was a young man back in the academy, blundering into a first relationship.

“Julian…” Garak’s voice was thick, as though he was having trouble with the words. After a moment, he locked eyes with the human’s. “One of us is going to get hurt if this continues.”

Julian leaned closer, until their noses almost touched. “I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”

He waited. This was it; the turning point. Either something began or something would end with the Cardassian’s next actions. The blue eyes searched the hazel ones frantically, as though lost. And maybe he was lost. Garak had nothing left except Julian and Ziyal and his shop. He had no family left, and no hope of returning home so long as Dukat and the Dominion had Cardassia in their clutches.

He briefly wondered if he was pushing the man too hard emotionally, but all thoughts were dashed away when the surprisingly soft, scaled lips were pressed against his, and the hands clutched at his shoulders for dear life and they kissed and kissed and groped and… at some point they came up for air, panting. Garak looked hungry, his hair slightly out of place, but he pulled back, standing.

“Computer: End program.”

Julian groaned. Had they gone back to square one already?

The tailor tilted his head back and looked down his nose at the human. “I think one of our quarters would be a better location for this, don’t you agree?”

Julian was on his feet in an instant, and the two moved quickly out of the holosuite, barely acknowledging Quark as he yelled after them that if they left early, there were no refunds.


End file.
